


The Secret Child

by MerHums



Series: Family Secrets [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alpha Greg, Alpha John, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anal Sex, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Awkward Conversations, Childbirth, Coitus Interruptus, Comfort Sex, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Family Feels, Family Issues, Family Secrets, Fertility Issues, First Meetings, Hand Jobs, Holmes Brothers, Johnlock - Freeform, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, Omega Mycroft, Omega Sherlock, Omega Verse, Oral Sex, Parent Mycroft, Parent-Child Relationship, Protective Big Brother Mycroft, Protective Mycroft, Rape Aftermath, Rape Recovery, Secrets, Self-Acceptance, mystrade, non graphic labor scene, self hatred
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-17
Updated: 2016-03-06
Packaged: 2018-05-21 05:15:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 22,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6039664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MerHums/pseuds/MerHums
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The secrets a family tells itself can be small or large, but either way, they won’t stay hidden forever</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Caution. This fic contains a non graphic rape scene, canon typical violence, and multiple mentions of drug abuse and withdrawal and fertility difficulties. If you may be triggered by any of this material, the authors ask that you not proceed in reading. The authors would also like to point out that these topics are not meant to be romanticized in anyway. 
> 
> If you or a loved one has been sexually assaulted, please contact the national help line at:  
> 800 656 4673 (United States)  
> 0808 802 9999 (United Kingdom)
> 
> If you or a loved one is struggling with drug use, please contact the national help line at:  
> 1 800 662 4357 (United States)  
> 01708 765200 (United Kingdom)

Mycroft moved quickly and quietly down the alleyway. Sherlock was too young to be out like this, too young be on the drugs Mycroft couldn’t stop him from taking. Mycroft was barely out of university himself and it felt like between work and Sherlock there was never enough time. Bad enough he had to fend off the constant ‘jokes’ about being an omega, but he also knew Sherlock had presented the same and it made Mycroft fear what Sherlock might be getting into.

This time Sherlock had been missing for a week. Mycroft knew their parents worried, but he tried to shield them from the worst of it and when they’d suggested that perhaps a change of scenery might be good for Sherlock, he hadn’t had the strength to argue that London was the last place their younger son should be.

 

**

 _Flouride. Bromide. Phosphorus. Pain. Calcium. Gallium. Radon. Pain. Stop. No._

Sherlock pushed, mumbling something to whoever was on top of him, trying to get them off as he felt teeth at his neck. 

Mycroft turned the corner and froze for half a second at the sight of a large alpha on top of his little brother, clearly having his way with the drugged out omega. Then, snarling, he hurried forward, cracking his umbrella over the alpha’s head before dragging him off and sending him headfirst into the bricks. Almost blinded by rage he kicked the alpha again as he dropped. 

Sherlock sat up, confused and bewildered. “Mycroft?” he slurred. “Mycroft, stop.” He stood, and then fell back down. “What are you…” Sherlock turned and vomited onto the ground at the wash of pain that came over him as he stood, seeing blood. 

Mycroft barely reined himself back at the sound of Sherlock being sick. He took off his overcoat and wrapped it around Sherlock’s shoulders. “Come on,” he said gritting his teeth. He should take him to the hospital, but then Sherlock would just run away again.

“No. I need to stay,” Sherlock said, batting at him weakly. “I'll be okay. Jus’ need to...finish.” He slumped in Mycroft’s arms. 

Mycroft bent down and fetched his broken umbrella before gathering Sherlock in his arms, holding him close against his chest and being certain he was covered by the coat as he carried him. He’d always been gifted, the top of every class. But when it came to his little brother, he often felt utterly helpless.

**

The next time Sherlock woke properly, he was in a warm bed, clean, dressed in too big pajamas with bandage wrapped around his ankle. He went to sit up, laying back down quickly as nausea overwhelmed him. 

Mycroft heard the movement. “There’s a wastebasket next to the bed,” he said, getting up from his work to warm some broth.

“I don’t-” Sherlock cut himself off, rolling over and vomiting up stomach bile. 

Mycroft sighed and swallowed, bringing the broth into him along with a warm cloth to wipe his mouth.

Sherlock frowned. “I’m not hungry,” he muttered, closing his eyes. 

“You’re very thin,” said Mycroft softly, putting the broth on the end table. “Tea, then?”

“No.” 

“Okay.” Mycroft wiped his mouth anyway. “If I have a doctor come here, will you at least let them look at you?”

Sherlock shrugged. “Can I leave after?” 

“It depends on what the doctor says.”

“And if I leave anyway?” 

Mycroft ran a hand through his hair. “You know I will always look for you.”

Sherlock moved away from his touch, turning onto his side. “Go away, Mycroft. I don’t need you.” 

Mycroft nodded. “The doctor will be here shortly, then.”

Sherlock ignored him, closing his eyes again. He didn’t acknowledge the doctor as he showed up, but he flinched as the man came over. “Don’t touch me,” he snarled. 

Mycroft came and sat by his side. ”I’m right here, Sherlock. He won’t hurt you.”

“Don’t touch me,” Sherlock repeated, shifting away. “Don’t.” 

The doctor looked between them, looking to Mycroft as Sherlock curled into him. 

Mycroft stroked his back and looked up at the doctor. “What do you need him to do?”

“I’ll need to check him over, any wounds. Take blood or urine for a...few tests. I’ll need to see his ankle. And check for infections, tearing, bleeding, elsewhere,” the doctor said pointedly, waiting patiently. 

Sherlock shook his head, burying his face in Mycroft’s stomach. “It’ll hurt,” he whimpered. 

“It might,” the doctor replied softly. “But it’ll hurt more if you don’t let me look.” 

“It’s better in the long run, Sherlock. And I’m right here.” Mycroft’s heart broke for his brother.

Sherlock shook his head again, but let Mycroft undo the buttons of his shirt. “Stay?” he said quickly as Mycroft made to move away. 

“Of course. Right here. We’ll do this quick as we can.”

The doctor nodded in agreement as Mycroft helped sit Sherlock up, slipping his bottoms off. 

Mycroft carefully kept his emotions in check as the doctor worked. Sherlock was an addict; showing how much he was hurting to his brother would mean nothing.

Sherlock bit back a grimace as the doctor pulled away, pulling out a cup.

“I’ll need you to urinate in this,” he said. “And then I’ll need some blood. After that, you’re finished.”

Sherlock nodded, and took it with shaky hands. “I’m not pregnant.” 

“We need to be sure,” said Mycroft softly. “Come on.”

“I don’t want to,” Sherlock muttered, shrinking back. 

“You think you are, don’t you?” said Mycroft, watching him. And just when he thought his heart couldn’t break any more.

“I’m not,” Sherlock said again. “I can’t be.”

Mycroft put an arm around him. “This wasn’t the first time, was it?”

Sherlock said nothing, looking away as his face grew stony. 

“Then take the test. It could very well be nothing. Or else we’ll have to wait for the results from the blood draw.”

Sherlock took a breath, and then limped off to the bathroom, hands shaking slightly. 

Mycroft rubbed his temples and looked at the doctor. “What do I need to do?”

“Watch him carefully. I’d suggest getting him into a detox program. If he is pregnant, it could be...difficult,” the doctor said. “And it seems like he already thinks he is, in which case, it may be best if he decides whether or not to keep the pup. If not, it will be easier for him to get clean. If he does, then he’ll need to go cold turkey.” 

“I’ll discuss it with him.” Mycroft glanced at the door and pulled out his checkbook to pay him while Sherlock was busy.

“Thank you. Keep him hydrated at the moment, and keep him from accessing any more drugs. The withdrawal is already starting.”

Sherlock came back out and the doctor took a blood sample, then packed up.

Sherlock curled into a ball as he left, ignoring Mycroft, unintentionally cradling his belly. 

Mycroft sat by him again, petting his hair. “If you wish to keep it, I’ll help you.”

Sherlock’s shoulders hitched at the gentle touch.

Mycroft stayed where he was, wondering what else he could do.

“I don’t know…” Sherlock said quietly. “I don’t know whose...whose it is.” 

“It’s okay. Ultimately it doesn’t matter. Not now anyway. I’m right here and I always will be.”

“Don’t tell mummy?” Sherlock whispered, closing his eyes. 

“I won’t. Our secret. We’ll figure out what to do.”

Sherlock nodded.

**  
“Holmes! My office, now!” 

Mycroft stood up fast, dreading this walk but obeying the command anyway. He felt the eyes of the other workers on him. 

“Sir?”

“A week! No calls, and you show up here expecting your job to still be yours?” his boss hissed. 

“I did try to call, sir. The line was busy.”

“Why weren’t you here?” 

“I had family business. Urgent family business.”

“Not an excuse.” 

“I know I’ve been missing a lot of time, sir. But I’ve been getting my work done.”

“As have everyone else, and they can show up to the office, not looking hungover and smelling of vomit!” 

“I’m not hungover,” Mycroft needed this job, even if he knew it was already slipping from his fingers. “And if I smell like vomit it’s because, as I said sir, urgent family business.”

“You're fired, Holmes. You can't be excused for a week’s absence with no notification. Clear out your desk.” 

Mycroft opened his mouth to argue, then closed it again. “Sir.” He buckled down any emotion as he emptied his desk, leaving most everything behind. He didn’t know how he’d afford rent or care for Sherlock, let alone a child. But he’d figure it out, somehow. He ignored his coworkers as he pulled on his suit coat and stepped into the lift, running a hand through his hair.

He stepped out and made his way outside with his box, only to be stopped by two men in suits. 

“Mycroft Holmes?” one asked, holding up a badge. 

Mycroft swallowed hard. “Yes, sir?”

“We’re going to need you to come with us,” the other said. “You're under arrest for the possession and distribution of confidential government information.” 

Mycroft’s heart stopped in his chest. “I haven’t done anything,” he said, not resisting as he was placed in handcuffs. What would Sherlock do when he didn’t come home? He wouldn’t feed himself, that much he was certain of. Would he run off again?

The men said nothing, leading him off into a black car, bundling him in the back.

Mycroft didn’t know much, but he knew to keep his mouth shut. They weren’t ordinary police, he could tell. His eyes flickered over the man in the back with him, deducing in his mind to keep from panicking.

Mycroft was led into a non-descript building and cuffed to the table. 

“Tell us what you know about this man,” one of the officers said, putting a file down in front of him. 

Mycroft glanced at the photo. “I’ve never seen him before in my life.”

“That's not what we asked.”’

Mycroft nodded. So they wanted him to deduce. Well that he could do. He opened the file and quickly skimmed through the contents before rattling off what he knew. When he finished he leaned back, wondering if he’d be released or tossed in the Thames and rather hoping it wasn’t the latter. At least he was almost entirely certain they were affiliated with the government in some way, no doubt why they knew he could do this.

The men looked at each other, and then closed the file, exiting the room without a word. 

Mycroft swallowed again. A moment later, a young woman walked in. No, the way she carried herself, she was a Lady. And scentless. Even a beta carried a certain scent. This woman was blank.

“Mycroft Edwin Holmes, twenty-three years of age, parents retired, mother a mathematician, father a musician, one younger brother.” The lady sat down, examining him closely. “The younger brother. Now there's a pickle, isn't there?” She slid a paper over to him, positive test results facing up.

“How did you get this?” Mycroft looked up at her.

She smiled. “My name is Lady Smallwood.” 

“I’ve seen your name on reports before.”

“As you should have. Tell me, Mycroft, what do you think of me?” 

“You’re very dangerous, ma’am.”

“You're very clever, Mycroft.” 

“Yes, ma’am, I am.”

“But recently fired, weren't you? How do you plan on taking care of your little trouble?” Smallwood asked, tapping the paper with a neatly manicured fingernail.

“I don’t know,” he said honestly. “Seek other work, I suppose.”

“What if I gave you a position in my office?” 

“Doing what, ma’am?”

“Well, you would be doing mostly analytics, intelligence gathering. When your...charges age a bit, we’ll send you out into the field.” 

Mycroft nodded. “That would be the most logical choice for me to take.”

“Yes, it would.” Lady Smallwood gestured at the door and one of the men brought in more paperwork.

“Look this over. I would advise you to take the job. If you do, you start Monday and your little troubles...will be handled. If you’d rather not accept my offer, then you are free to leave.” She stood and unlocked his cuffs.

“When you say handled...they will not be harmed?”

“No. But you will become a mother quite early. As soon as the paperwork goes through.” 

Mycroft nodded. “Yes ma’am.” He gave the paperwork a quick read and signed, hoping Sherlock would accept this solution.

“Welcome to the team, Mycroft Holmes.”


	2. Chapter 2

Mycroft held Sherlock's hand tight. He'd been in labor for a while now, but the baby was close. 

Sherlock was panting, entire body trembling as he squeezed Mycroft’s hand hard enough to to turn both their hands white. He sobbed out another harsh cry. 

“Almost there,” soothed Mycroft. “Almost over.” The truth was his heart was in his throat. 

Sherlock arched his head back against the bed. “Out!” he shouted, teeth grit against the pain. “Get it out!” He let out another harsh scream, matched in volume only by the surprised wailing of the newborn as it slid free and into the arms of the nurse. 

“You did it, Sherlock,” breathed Mycroft, looking between the baby and his brother. 

Sherlock let his hand drop from Mycroft’s, breathing hard. “A boy?” he asked, swallowing. 

“Yes,” said the nurse, wiping the infant clean before placing him in Sherlock's arms. 

“Take him away,” Sherlock said, passing the baby off to Mycroft with shaking hands, face paler than it had been with the pain of labor as his heart monitors kicked up. “I can't…I’ll.... Just take him away.” 

Mycroft took the baby. “Okay,” he said getting up and walking to the other side of the room. 

Sherlock curled onto his side, listening as Mycroft hushed the crying infant. 

“William,” said Mycroft softly when one of the nurses questioned him, hardly believing what he had in his arms. 

Sherlock gave a quiet moan, and one of the nurses took the baby. “Go ahead and comfort him,” she said, tutting as William began to cry. “So young. Only a baby himself.” 

Mycroft nodded and went to hold his brother. 

“You'll take care of him, right?” Sherlock muttered. “You will?” 

“I swear it.” He kissed the top of Sherlock's head. 

Sherlock nodded. “Good.” 

**

“Oh, Mister Holmes! William is all packed up for you, waiting with his mum,” the nurse said, greeting him as he walked in. “Here, I'll take you to the room and you can fill out the paperwork with Sherlock, hmm?” 

“Of course. Thank you.” He followed her to the room, only to find Sherlock gone, the baby in his carrier and his mother's scarf tucked in with him. 

“Well, that's strange, he was just here.” 

“He does that sometimes. What do I need to sign?” Mycroft knew beyond any doubt that Sherlock was off getting high somewhere. 

“Oh, right here. You'd have had to have signed anyway as Sherlock’s guardian and William’s adopted mum.” 

The nurse showed him, signed him out and waved him off after a few concerned words for Sherlock.

**  
The next time Sherlock showed up was Christmas eve, three months having passed. It was pouring rain, and he stepped up to Mycroft’s window, having found his new address. He peered in, seeing the baby sleeping in a corner cot, slipping away and into the back garden as a car drove down the street. 

Mycroft got out of the car, waved the driver off and climbed his front steps. Opening the door he smiled at the nanny, just getting ready to go, and bid her goodnight. 

He stepped into nursery, just off the kitchen and was shocked to find Sherlock watching the baby, not touching. Besides the thick coat, Mycroft could see he was thin. “Sherlock.”

Sherlock ignored him. “He's gotten so big,” he said quietly, scratching his forearm, shivering. 

“He's meeting all his milestones,” Mycroft said softly. 

“I...I brought him something,” Sherlock said hoarsely. “It's clean,” he said, pulling the neatly wrapped package out. “It's clean.” 

“Thank you. Will you stay?”

Sherlock shook his head. “I can't. Please,” he said, holding out the package. “Take it. It's his first Christmas.” 

“Just the night? It's cold.”

Sherlock hesitated. “I...are they coming tomorrow?” 

“Not until lunch.”

“I'll stay till then,” Sherlock said quietly. 

“I'll make you a bed. Did you want to hold him?”

Sherlock shook his head quickly. “I can't.” 

“Okay. I'll need to feed him soon. And fix us dinner.”

“Eating is boring,” Sherlock said. “I'm not hungry.” 

“Okay.” He opened the blanket and swaddled William in it as he started to fuss.

Sherlock watched him carefully, itching to reach out and take his son, but refraining. He kept watching as Mycroft fed him, bathed him and put him to bed. He left the next morning, taking the scarf covered in William’s scent with him. 

Mycroft made excuses to their parents for Sherlock's absence. They missed their son, but enjoyed their grandson’s first Christmas. Mycroft took pictures. 

**

Several months later Mycroft received a package from the states. Opening it, he found a shirt that smelled of Sherlock and a candid photo of his brother, looking like he'd finally put on a little weight. He smiled and put the photo in William's room and sent back one of William’s blankets. 

**

Sherlock stood at the door, and raised his hand to knock. He hesitated at the sounds of laughter from inside and changed his mind, slipping around back and into the house. He tread quietly into the nursery, looking at the now one year old, sleeping in his cot. 

He stepped forward as William shifted in his sleep, face contorting into a grimace. Sherlock scooped him up almost hesitantly, gingerly cradling him to his chest. “I'm sorry,” he murmured. 

Sherlock swallowed as he heard Mycroft’s tread behind him. “You really ought to invest in better security, brother mine,” he said quietly. 

“Evidently. It’s good to see you.”

Sherlock turned and offered his forearm pointedly, still holding the baby. “They're here, aren't they?” He asked, glancing at the hall. 

“Mum and Dad, yes. Would you like to see them?”

Not now,” Sherlock murmured. “I want to be...settled before I do. They'll only want to speak about where I've been. I'm clean. I have a place to stay, only a few streets over. I just…” His grip on William tightened slightly. “I had to see him. It's his birthday.” 

Mycroft nodded. “You can see him anytime you wish.” He kept his voice gentle.

“I don't deserve to,” Sherlock replied. “He...he's still healthy right? Nothing happened when he was...inside? To change him?”

“No. A perfectly normal, healthy boy. And it's not about deserving anything.”

Sherlock's shoulders hitched almost imperceptibly. “But I don't know if I'll be able to stay here,” he said quietly. “I'm clean now. But if...if I can't stay that way, I'll leave again.” 

Mycroft gently put a hand on his back. “I'll always be here for you.”

“I don't need you,” Sherlock bristled. William shifted in his arms, nuzzling into Sherlock’s breast with a small sigh, and Sherlock bit his lip. “Not as much as he does. You’re his mother. That’s all he’ll ever know.” 

“He knows your scent. And I’m doing the best I can. By both of you.”

“Is mummy expecting you back out there with him?” Sherlock asked. 

“Not for a little while yet. Stay with him as long as you need.” Mycroft stepped away, memorizing the way Sherlock looked with William in his arms, and slipped back out to the front room, making excuses that William was still sleeping and he’d fetch him in a bit.

Sherlock sat down in the armchair, feeling himself doze off and allowing it, William secure in the crook of his arm.


	3. Chapter 3

Sherlock stayed for nearly a year. William continued to grow and always seemed happy when Aunt Sherlock paid a visit. Mycroft hoped that it would be enough, that enrolling in school again and William would keep Sherlock on track.

But one day Sherlock simply wasn’t there. Mycroft found that he’d dropped out of school again. Well, been kicked out, actually. Got into a few fights that he’d never told Mycroft about and he hadn’t been keeping close enough eye on him, trying to give him the freedom to be an adult and live his own life.

He got a letter from a Mrs. Hudson in Florida while he was searching for his brother, and recognized the handwriting as the same as the person who’d sent the package before. Maybe that would be enough to help Sherlock pull out again.

He found Sherlock in another drug den, in another dark place. But at least this time he was alone. “You got a letter, brother mine.”

Sherlock’s head lolled back, and he stared at Mycroft with glazed, reddened eyes. “Is William all right?” he asked, voice slurring. 

“He’s fine. But there’s someone in Florida that needs your help.” Mycroft sat next to him and offered the letter.

Sherlock reached out, taking the paper. His eyes narrowed and he read it. “I need to go to Florida,” he muttered. “I can’t get there.” 

“I can help you,” said Mycroft. “Did you want to get sober, first?”

“I’ll do it...there,” Sherlock said. “I can’t here.”

“Okay. What do you need from me?”

“I’m not sure I can leave.” 

“I’ll take care of the travel.” Mycroft helped him to his feet. “Is there somewhere you want to go while I do that?”

“Can I see him before I leave?” Sherlock asked.

“Yes, of course. Come on.”

Sherlock let Mycroft guide him into a cab, and then after, into his house. He stood in William’s room, watching as the toddler crawled around, ignoring his mother and aunt in favor of chewing on colorful blocks. 

“I have to get better,” Sherlock mumbled. “I can’t though. I need it. I need it to slow down. If I can’t slow down, it doesn’t stop.” He slumped against the door frame. “It doesn’t stop moving.” 

Mycroft squeezed his shoulder. “William, say hi to your Aunt.”

William looked up, letting the block drop. He smiled, and waved. “Hi,” he said excitedly, and babbled something else, crawling over to his teddy bear and picking it up. “Hi.” 

“Will you help me? Can you find something to make it slow down?” Sherlock asked shakily. “I need to be here for him.” 

“I'll do everything I can to find something.”

Sherlock nodded. “I need to go.” Mycroft nodded and lead him out, the nanny looking curiously as they exited. 

**

“Holmes! My office!” Lady Smallwood called. 

Mycroft came in. “Yes, ma'am?”

“Can you speak Greek?” 

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good. Read this aloud,” she said, setting a file down. 

Mycroft picked it up and read with perfect pronunciation. 

“Excellent. Arrange child care for a week. You leave in two days.” 

“Yes ma’am. Thank you.” He'd known for a while that this was coming. 

“Everything you need to know is in here.” Lady Smallwood smiled. “Don't fail me, Mycroft Holmes.” She handed him another file, and shooed him out.

Mycroft studied the file until it was time to go home. He picked up William and cuddled him, hoping he was still doing right by him. This work was dangerous, and while he was reasonably confident everything would be fine, there was still the chance that things could go wrong. He’d named Sherlock as guardian, in case anything happened. He could only hope the boy would be enough.

Two days later he was on a plane headed for Greece and William was with his grandparents.

**

“Mama!” William shrieked when Mycroft arrived back two weeks later, the journey taking longer than expected, and leaving him with a few more marks than expected.

His grandmother smiled and let him down. “Mycroft!” she said, seeing the bruise on his face. “What on earth happened?”

“Nothing important.” Mycroft smiled, picking up his son. “Thank you for watching him.”

“Is this why it took longer?” Mummy asked, frowning, lifting a gentle hand to ghost her fingers over the mark.

“Part of it. Really it's not important. I'm fine.”

Mummy shook her head. “William missed you,” she said. “He’s also asking for Sherlock.” She gave Mycroft a look. “When will he be back from….studying?” 

“Soon, I'm sure. I'll check on him when I get home.”

“He’s not answering my calls or letters,” Mummy continued. “I’m...worried. I know he tends to go where the wind takes him, but that doesn’t mean I want him wandering off with the faeries….” 

“I know. I'll make sure he calls you. Let's go home, William.”

“Home,” William repeated with a serious look on his face. “Teddy. Nanny. Lock.” He nodded after the last one, cupping Mycroft’s face with interest. “Lock?” 

“Maybe. We’ll see.”

“Yes, Lock. Bye-bye Nana.” 

Mummy chuckled, though her eyes remained somewhat sad and knowing.

**

“Mama. Juice,” William said, tugging Mycroft's pant leg as the phone rang. “Oh! Ring! Ring!” 

Mycroft handed his son a sippy cup and answered. “Holmes.”

William watched as Mycroft spoke, latching onto one word in particular. “Lock? Lock!”

Mycroft hung up the phone. “We have to go get Aunt Sherlock,” he said. “Let’s get your coat on.” At least Sherlock was only being held, there wasn’t anything saying that he was on drugs.

William grinned and toddled off to get his shoes and coat.

**

“I had nothing to do with the-” Sherlock broke off as he scented William come into the station, craning his neck to see. 

Mycroft followed his nose and walked in holding William’s hand. Sherlock was talking with a silver-haired alpha in a small office. _Attractive_ , some part of him noted, then quickly dismissed the thought. William shook free of his hand and ran to his Aunt.

“I’m Mycroft Holmes.”

Sherlock immediately picked up William, holding him close as the toddler chattered. 

"Detective Inspector Lestrade. You're the brother?"

“Yes, I am. Is he free to go?”

"He was able to tell us who killed a murder suspect earlier, after only a glimpse at the scene. Said you could do the same, and that he had nothing to do with the murder. Didn't see it happen either."

Mycroft nodded. “My brother and I share a certain talent for deduction.” He took a step back and scrutinized the Inspector. “For instance, we have never met, but I know you played in a punk band in University. I know that you are presently in a relationship, but your omega is a cause of stress and you’re on the rocks. I predict a divorce in less than six months.”

Greg's mouth gaped open. "What the h-" he glanced at William, "heck?" 

Sherlock looked up. "If you don't mind, I'd like to be released now. You have no legal right to hold me."

“May we go, Inspector?”

"Hold on a minute. How did you know all that?" Greg asked, smiling slightly. "Have you been looking me up on the way here?"

“Not at all. I only just now got your name as you didn’t give it to me on the phone. You’ve got a closed up spot where an earring was, some time ago. Your wedding ring has clearly been frequently toyed with, as if you keep taking it off and putting it back on. However, judging by the lines of stress you’re not the one who's been cheating.”

Sherlock watched the interaction with slightly narrowed eyes, something William was trying to copy. 

“That’s….That’s amazing,” Greg finally said, fiddling with his ring. “And yeah, he’s free to go. There’s nothing we can hold him on. But listen…would you be willing to work with us if I got the okay from my supervisors? You’d have to prove yourself on cold cases first but…I might be able to get their approval.” 

Sherlock blinked in surprise. “Yes, I think I’d be agreeable,” he said, hefting William onto his hip. 

“Great. What’s a good contact number?”

“I’ve only just gotten back from the states. I’ll have to get back to you on that,” Sherlock replied. 

“You’ve got mine, you can use that for now,” said Mycroft. He glanced at his brother. “May I speak with the Inspector alone for a moment?”

Sherlock hesitated, then gave a small nod. “Come, William. We’ll go deduce the others.” 

Mycroft watched the door close. “There are some things you should know about my brother.”

Greg frowned. “Something to do with the track marks on his arm?” he asked, going to sit down behind his desk. 

“You’re observant as well. Yes. He’s trying to remain sober, and I’m hopeful that this will give him something useful to focus on.” Mycroft didn’t mention his brother’s young age, after all, at least he was a legal adult now.

“Right. Right,” Greg fiddled with his ring. “Do you think he can?” 

Mycroft couldn't help but watch his fingers. “I think so. He lasted almost a year before his last relapse. With this to focus on I’m hopeful he’ll be able to maintain sobriety. He truly wants to.”

Greg nodded. “All right. I’ll keep that from my supes then. If he can’t stay sober...then he’s out. You’ll tell him?” he asked, eyes flickering over Mycroft’s body. 

“I will.” He was well aware of the alpha’s gaze. “I do hope you’ll keep in touch.” He took out a card. “My job sometimes requires me to be out of the country. If there's an emergency you can leave a message here.”

“Thanks. Let me show you out,” Greg said, standing up and grabbing his coat. 

Mycroft gave him a smile, allowing himself to breathe in Greg’s scent. He hadn't dated since taking in Sherlock and agreeing to take William, but he'd be lying if he said he never missed the feel of an alpha in his bed or during his infrequent heats. 

Greg walked them out and then watched as they drove off, before heading down the street to pick up some lunch.

“Must you?” Sherlock asked quietly, watching Mycroft watch him go. 

“I simply wanted to be sure he was informed. And he'd already guessed.”

“That was not what I was referring to,” Sherlock replied, handing William the toy he’d dropped. “You are attracted to him, and he to you.” 

“He's also married and I have other obligations.” Mycroft looked out the window. 

“Not for much longer,” Sherlock replied. He looked at William. “Just. Anyone whom you choose...don’t be blinded when you look at them. See what they really are.” He rubbed his forearm. “For his sake.” 

“I swear Sherlock, he and you will always be my first priorities.”

Sherlock nodded. “Thank you,” he said quietly. “I have a place to stay. On Baker Street. 221C. It’s not much, but its free as long as I don’t...slip up.” 

“I'm glad. I have full faith in you.”

“I am trying,” Sherlock said. “It’s difficult.”

“If there's anything else I can do, let me know.”

Sherlock acknowledged him with a small tilt of the head. 

**

“Mum! Phone!” William said, pointing to his jacket as Mycroft walked into the room. “Who it?” William asked.

Mycroft smiled at him as he picked it up. “I’ll tell you in a minute. Hello?”

“Mycroft Holmes? It’s Greg. Sorry, Inspector Lestrade. We...I need you to come down to the station. Don’t bring your son if you can help it. It’s...probably best if you don’t.”

“Of course. I will be there as quick as I can.” His heart skipped. “Come along William, I need to drop you at Nanny’s.” He was already texting her. 

“Okay, mum.” William got up. “I wear my new trainers?”

“Certainly. Can you tie them yourself?”

“Maybe?” William said hesitantly. “I try. You help.” 

**

Mycroft met Greg at the doors. “What is it?”

Greg shook his head. “Not here.” He lead Mycroft through the halls. “Lemme just say, I got there in time to stop anything from properly happening, but he was using again so I can’t honestly say for sure. And there were alphas around. And from what I can tell, he was fighting them off for a bit.” He nodded to the officer watching the drunk tank, and she took off, with an almost grateful look on her face. “But well..” He gestured forward just as Sherlock slammed into the bars. 

“Here to save the day again, brother?” Sherlock snapped. 

“Seems that Inspector Lestrade did. A relapse, Sherlock?”

Sherlock strode away, flopping onto the hard cot. “Where’s William?” 

“With his Nanny. It’s been more than a year this time. I’m glad. But can I ask what happened?”

Sherlock glanced at Lestrade and then curled onto his side.

Greg looked between them, and then shrugged. “It was a drugs bust. He didn’t actually have anything on him, so he’s only here to get sober. I’ll let you two have a minute,” he said, stepping out.

Mycroft looked at him. “You were investigating something.”

“I was attempting to find his father. I found...more than I wished.”

“Oh, Sherlock.” Mycroft leaned against the bars. “Is it important?”

“I need to know,” Sherlock said through gritted teeth. “What if he gets sick? What if he needs an organ? What health problems is he at risk for?” 

“We can do testing. Did they hurt you?”

“No,” Sherlock said quietly. “Lestrade got there first.” 

“Do you want to continue working with him?”

“Yes. A rehab facility would be best, but it was only once. I don’t believe it’s necessary. I’m already nearly sober.” 

“I'll speak with him, see if he’ll let you off since it's only once. But if it happens again there will be rehab.”

Sherlock nodded. “May I...still come to dinner, Sunday?” He asked hesitantly.

“Yes, Sherlock. Of course. I'll speak with Lestrade.”

“If you must.”


	4. Chapter 4

More time passed and before Mycroft knew it, William was starting primary school. On his fifth birthday, Mycroft found himself corralling a handful of William’s friends as well as his own family. He took a breath as Mummy led them in a game in the garden to give him a break. He went to check on the cake. 

Sherlock was standing in the kitchen, watching out the window. “Lestrade's marriage finally fell apart you know,” he said without preamble as Mycroft came in. 

“It lasted longer than even I had predicted,” admitted Mycroft, taking the cake out of the fridge.

“He's single now. Has been since the papers were signed.” 

“That’s what a divorce generally means, Sherlock.” Mycroft tried to ignore the implications. Any traitorous thoughts he had about Greg Lestrade he generally tried to keep a damper on. He’d known the man three years now and they’d never really spoken outside of things regarding Sherlock.

“Yes well.” Sherlock’s phone began to vibrate and he rejected the call, tossing it into the bread box. “How long until the cake is cut?” 

Mycroft glanced out the window. “They’ll be done playing the game in about five minutes.”

“Excellent. That's perfect timing then,” Sherlock said. “I'll go join father.” He strode out of the kitchen. 

Mycroft had a bad feeling about everything as he pulled out the superhero plates William had requested.

There was a sudden banging on the front door, accompanied by a shout of “Police! Open up!” 

Mycroft cursed and hurried to the front door, opening it and mortified to find Lestrade and Donovan on his doorstep. “Can I help you?” He managed. 

“Ah...Mycroft? Everything all right?” Greg asked. “Got a message from Sherlock. Something about needing backup...What's going-”

“Detective Lestrade!” William shouted as the kids trooped into the hall and caught sight of the strangers. “You came to my birthday party!” 

Mycroft dropped his head into his palm. “Do you like vanilla cake?”

Greg closed his mouth with an almost audible click of his teeth. “Sure,” he said. “Yeah, that’d be great. Donovan?”

“No sir. I'll head back. Enjoy.” She left, and Greg stepped in. 

“I'll murder my brother later,” muttered Mycroft. “Oh mummy, father, this is Inspector Lestrade.”

“Pleased to meet you. Just Greg is fine, I'm off the clock,” Greg replied, shaking their hands.

“Oh, what a nice man, coming for William’s party. You must work with Sherlock then?” Mummy asked, looping her arm through his and leading him off after tossing Mycroft a knowing look. 

Mycroft put on a smile for his son, though he was inwardly cursing. “Let's cut the cake, shall we?”

Sherlock smiled. “Of course. Candles first.” 

William was excited to see his cake. They sang him happy birthday and he blew out his candles, then Mycroft cut the cake and helped William pass them out. Finally, he was able to pull Lestrade aside. “I apologize .”

Greg smiled. “It's fine. You're not the one who should be apologizing. Besides, it's good company and good cake. Got me out of the house for a day.” 

“I'm sure Sherlock had the best intentions.”

“Did he?” Greg asked with a laugh. “I think he might have just been being a shit. What's the point in me coming over? To entertain the kids?” 

Mycroft blushed and looked away. “I'm sure.”

“I mean, no other point in me coming. Though I'm glad to have the company, like I said,” Greg continued. He reached out and set his hand on Mycroft’s shoulder for only a moment. “You have a lovely house. Could I get a tour?”

“Certainly. I know we haven't spent time together outside your work.”

“Nah. Be nice if we could,” Greg said. “Lor got all the friends in the divorce. Been a bit...quiet,” he said, following Mycroft. “They were mostly hers anyway.”

“Well, it's just me and William. Between mothering and work I don't take time for much else.” He led the way upstairs, aware once again of Greg’s tantalizing scent. 

“You should take some time for yourself once in awhile,” Greg said. “Dinner out? With a friend. Or not. A girlfriend, maybe?” 

“I prefer male alphas,” he said before he could catch it back. He swallowed. “And who would go out with me?”

Greg smiled. “I dunno,” he said quietly. “You’re quite the catch. I’m sure you could find someone,” he teased.

Mycroft gave him a slight smile. “William would have to like them.”

“Well, I’ll have to ask him for a list of people he likes. Maybe I can help you find a date,” Greg replied, stepping a bit closer.

“And...would you be a viable candidate?”

“That depends on what you think,” Greg replied, glancing at Mycroft’s lips with a smile. “Am I a viable candidate? Assuming I pass William’s observations.”

“I believe so.” Mycroft licked his lips and watched him. 

“So if you’re right, would you be willing to go to dinner with me?” 

“When?”

“Whenever you’re free,” Greg replied with a grin. 

“Tuesday at seven?”

“Sounds good,” Greg replied. “Can I pick you up?” 

“Yes. How should I dress?”

“Can you do something casual? And with a thick jacket.” 

“I can do that.” He touched Greg’s hand. “I'll make sure Sherlock babysits.”

“Perfect.” Greg smiled as their hands touched. “I can’t wait.” 

There were footsteps behind them and Mycroft took a step back. “William,” he smiled. 

“Ali’s dad is here and wants to see you,” William said, looking between them with narrowed eyes. “Whatcha doing?” 

“Just talking. I'll go speak to her.”

“Okay.” William went over to Greg and looked at him. “Can you pick me up?”

“Yeah, c’mon then.” Greg held out his arms and William climbed up. 

“Hmm. You’re good enough,” William decided, settling in. “Take me downstairs now.”

“Only if you say please.”

“Please.” 

**

Mycroft waited until the party was wrapped up before speaking with Sherlock as he washed dishes. “You're babysitting Tuesday evening.”

“Am I?” Sherlock asked, leaning against the wall, lazily watching Mycroft stack plates. “Why ever for, brother mine?” 

“Because I am apparently going out for dinner with Inspector Lestrade.”

Sherlock smirked. “Should I be expecting a happy announcement?” 

“It's one date. Let's start with this.”

“If you insist,” Sherlock replied, standing up. “I’ll be leaving now. I have a case.”

“Please just be here on Tuesday?”

“I will,” Sherlock replied. “I’m going up to check on William first.”

**

Greg pulled up to Mycroft’s house, and unstrapped the spare helmet from the back of his bike, going up to knock on the door. 

Mycroft was wearing trousers and a button up. “Good evening.”

“Hi,” Greg said. “Ready? You need a jacket still.” 

“Right here.” He pulled on a thick wool one from the closet. “William, Sherlock, I'm heading out,” he called. 

“Bye mum!” William called with a giggle. 

Sherlock appeared in the hall only a moment later, and looked at Greg. 

Greg raised his hand. “You’re the one who wanted back up,” was all he said, before handing Mycroft the other helmet.

“Be good, William.” 

Mycroft followed him out, strapping on the helmet as his heart beat faster, eyeing the motorcycle.

“Been on one before?” Greg asked, pulling his helmet on and fixing his gloves. 

“Not in quite some time,” he admitted. 

“Mm, but that does mean you have before,” Greg said with a laugh, swinging a leg over. “C’mon. Lean with me on the curves and hold tight. We’re not going far. It’s a nice day out.” 

“All right.” Mycroft wrapped his arms around the alpha and followed his movements.

Greg smiled and zipped through the streets, taking Mycroft out of the city proper, and past the subdivisions to a small park, slowing as he hit a dirt path, heading past a lake and up a small hill. “Here we are,” he said, stopping and kicking out the stand. 

“A picnic?” asked Mycroft, removing his helmet and catching his breath. 

“Yeah,” Greg replied, taking his own off and wiping his forehead before heading to the saddle bags and pulling out a blanket and cooler bag. “That all right?” 

“It is. Much different than with a toddler.”

“Oh, I bet.” Greg pulled out a bottle of lemonade and two glasses. “Drinks are still the same though,” he said with a smile. He laid out the blankets and weighted the corners, sitting down with the bag of food and sorting it out. “Sit, Mycroft. I don’t bite. Much.” He grinned up at Mycroft, crossing his legs. 

Mycroft smiled back. “This is nice,” he admitted. 

“Yeah? I’m glad,” Greg replied, handing him a glass as Mycroft sat. 

“It's been some time since I've had such pleasant company.”

“How long?” Greg asked quietly, passing over a plate. “If you want to share.”

“A date? Like this? Not since before William was born.” Mycroft felt himself wanting to share with Greg. Not all of it of course; some secrets were held too close.

“Well, in that case,” Greg said, pouring the lemonade out. “Here's to a memorable one.” He smiled, and tipped their glasses together. “But only in the very best way.” 

Mycroft gave him a genuine smile. “It already is proving to be quite nice.” He tapped Greg’s glass. 

“So. Tell me about yourself?” Greg asked, taking a sip.

“You’ve known my brother and I almost three years,” said Mycroft. “But I suppose we’ve never talked too much. I work for the government, and I’m afraid I can’t go into details about my work.” 

“Didn't ask about that,” Greg said. “I asked about you, Mycroft. Tell me about you.” He smiled, and nudged Mycroft gently. 

“Oh.” Mycroft looked down at his hands. “Not much to tell, I’m afraid. I’m seven years older than Sherlock, I used to play piano, and I’m afraid my only hobby is reading dense government papers.”

“Don't play anymore because you've forgotten how, or because you haven't got the time?” Greg asked. 

“More a matter of time. William’s expressed interest and started taking lessons, but it seems I’m always either working or mothering,” admitted Mycroft.

“So if there's another date, I should just take you somewhere there's a piano, and let you off for a few hours?” Greg asked, handing Mycroft a sandwich. 

“If or when?” asked Mycroft, watching him.

“I'd prefer when, but that's up to you, innit?” Greg asked, meeting his gaze. “Depends on if I make your list.” He let his fingers drift along Mycroft's where they rest on the blanket. “If I pleased you.” 

“To be perfectly honest, you’ve always pleased me,” admitted Mycroft. “But I’ve tried to respect boundaries.”

“Boundaries?” Greg questioned, laying back, and propping his head up on his hand to watch Mycroft.

“You’ve been married, happily or not. You were trying to work things out with your wife.”

Greg sighed. “I'll be honest. That marriage was over long before you or your brother predicted it would end. From the first day, really.” He rolled onto his stomach. “You know how oil and water don't mix, but you think they're both liquid, so hey, why not try? That was the marriage. Trying to force two very different things together on a whim.” He glanced over at Mycroft. “But it's all right.” 

“May I ask why you wed in the first place? Just a whim?”

“A whim, yeah.” Greg snorted. “I later found out her parents were under the impression that I'd knocked her up, but anyway. I put the band to bed, stored the bike, focused on my career. Tried to make it work for far too long.” 

“Never any kids, then?”

Greg shook his head. “I wanted kids. She didn't. She had to carry, so hers was the final choice.” 

“You respected her.” Mycroft met his eyes. “Well, you’d be getting a built in child with me. One and a half if you count Sherlock.”

“If you count Sherlock, I count Sherlock. And I'm a bit stuck with him already, aren't I?” Greg smiled. “Would William be okay with...this? No worries about me replacing his father or something?” he asked quietly.

“He’s never had a father in his life,” said Mycroft, looking away. 

“Ah,” Greg said softly. “Do you want to talk about it?” 

“There’s not much to say, and ultimately, it’s not important. I’ve raised William the best I can though…” he looked back at Greg. “It would be nice to share with someone.”

“Think you can find someone who you can trust to share with?” Greg asked quietly. “Late nights and upset stomachs, because someone ate too many sweets? Rotten school yard fights and betrayals?” He sat up and scooted closer to Mycroft. “Look, I know what I'm getting into here. And it's something I want, honestly. I like you, Mycroft Holmes. That means if I get you, I get your son and your family, too.” 

“I’ve always been attracted to you,” said Mycroft. “And you would be an amazing father.” He threaded his fingers through Greg’s.

Greg grinned, and gave a small laugh. “That sounds really nice,” he said. “And I'm not gonna lie. Someone that looks like you finding me attractive, well...I'm honored.” 

Mycroft blushed. “I’m not anything to look at.”

“That's a lie,” Greg replied. “You have gorgeous eyes. Adorable freckles, and don't get mad cause I said they're adorable, because there's really no other word for them.” He squeezed Mycroft’s hand. “Not to mention what else is...hiding under those suits is probably absolutely incredible.” 

“A bit of a pudge from too much order in and not enough exercise.” retorted Mycroft.

“Perfect,” Greg said, sticking his tongue out childishly. “More to hold.”

“Is it?” Mycroft moved closer. “What else is that tongue good for?”

“Would you care to find out?” Greg asked, leaning in with a grin.

“Yes, Gregory, I truly would.” And he meant it. 

Greg reached out to cup his face. “You sure?” he teased, coming very close, lips brushing against Mycroft’s as he met his eyes. 

Mycroft chased his kiss, nodding. 

“Good.” Greg pressed their lips together with a chuckle.

Mycroft cupped the back of Greg’s head, licking into his mouth with enthusiasm born of five years of abstinence. 

Greg slid his hand onto Mycroft’s hip, tugging him to lay down. 

Mycroft allowed himself to be guided, wanting this, wanting to be touched. He knew it wasn't just because he was an omega, but because Greg saw him, and wanted him all the same. 

Greg pulled away and grinned. “You know, we are in public. Not that anyone is around.” 

“I suppose it would be detrimental to both our jobs. Then again, you did drive us out to a secluded spot.”

“Mm, not for this, I swear,” Greg chuckled. “I wanted you to see the sunset.” 

“What if I’m distracted from it?” He let his hand linger on Greg’s hip.

“Then I suppose we could come back,” Greg said. “Some other time.” 

“That would be nice. It’s been quite some time, but...I’m still a man with needs.”

“I could help you with those,” Greg said quietly, sliding his hand to Mycroft’s lower back. “If you wanted.” 

Mycroft offered his throat. “I’ve wanted for a long time.”

Greg kissed his throat, pulling him closer. 

Smiling softly, Mycroft ran his hands down Greg’s back. “Beautiful alpha.”

Greg gave a quiet, pleased growl, cupping his arse. “Beautiful omega.” 

“Yes, Gregory,” whispered Mycroft, wanting to be covered in his scent, he leaned in to kiss him again, savoring the taste of him.

“What would you like?” Greg asked, nipping at his bottom lip as they pulled away. “No one is around.”

“It’s been so long since anyone treated me...like an omega,” Mycroft said softly. “Since anyone thought about my needs, my pleasure.” The sun was setting but he only had eyes for Gregory. “It’s been nearly as long since anyone thought about yours.” 

“Yeah, it has,” Greg replied. “So maybe we should think about each other, huh?” He leaned in, kissing Mycroft again. “I have condoms. If you want,” he murmured. “Do you want to do anything?” 

“Let’s see where it goes. We’re missing the sunset as it is.”

“And whose fault is that?” Greg asked with a chuckle, nuzzling against Mycroft’s scent gland before tipping his own head in offer. 

Mycroft scented him deeply, tugging Greg over so the alpha would cover him with his body.

Greg grinned, propping himself up with one hand, ducking down to steal another kiss. “Now you’re definitely going to miss the sunset.”

“Pity. But I can see it reflected in your eyes.”

“You’re secretly a romantic, aren’t you, Mycroft Holmes? Course, if I do this, then you can’t see it, can you?” Greg purred, lowering his head to kiss along Mycroft’s neck. 

Mycroft moaned softly, angling his head as his eyes drifted closed. “Our secret,” he whispered.

“If you want it to be,” Greg murmured. “Only what you want.” He slid a hand between them, moving it slowly down Mycroft’s stomach and teasing along the top of his thigh. “Can I touch you?” 

“Please.” Mycroft mirrored his movement, barely teasing Greg through his jeans. “And may I do the same?”

“God, yeah,” Greg replied. “Please.” 

Mycroft kissed Greg, tugging open his flies to cup the soft hardness underneath. He rocked up against him, wanting more, knowing they should wait, but wanting all the same.

Greg groaned into Mycroft’s mouth, undoing his trousers, teasing his hand under his waistband. 

Mycroft panted against him, taking Greg in hand. It had been a long time since he’d held such a large cock, but he remembered.

“You sure?” Greg asked and shifted, laying on his side, sliding his hand into Mycroft’s pants to cup his cock, brushing his thumb over the small head with a smile. 

“God, don’t stop.” Mycroft bucked against his hand. “I...I’ve thought often of your hands on me,” he admitted, offering his throat.

“Yeah? What was I doing?” Greg asked, nipping gently, sucking a mark low on Mycroft’s neck as he stroked Mycroft slowly. 

“Touching me,” breathed Mycroft, eyes shut again, hardly believing this was finally happening.”Worshiping me, making me feel like an omega.”

“Is that what you want?” Greg murmured, peppering kisses over his face. 

Mycroft nodded. “Yes. I...I rarely admit to my base needs, but you… Gregory, you reach a place in me…”

“You haven’t even seen where I can reach yet,” Greg said, smirking as he curved his wrist. 

Mycroft gasped and let his legs fall open as far as they could within the confines of his trousers. “Yes, Gregory.”

“Mmm. Mycroft.” Greg kissed him again and pulled his hand away, tugging Mycroft’s trousers down around his legs. “This is very nice,” he said, dragging his thumb over the liquid beading up on Mycroft’s cockhead, kneeling up to look at Mycroft. “I would love to see you in my bed. Spread out for me to look at. Taste and take.” He leaned down again, kissing Mycroft’s thigh, sucking another mark into his skin. 

Mycroft groaned. “I would be agreeable to that,” he breathed.

“Maybe next time,” Greg murmured. “Right now, I want to just touch you.” He stroked Mycroft’s cock, leaning in to kiss him properly.

Mycroft kissed him back, stroking Greg faster.

Greg moaned quietly. “Harder,” he murmured. “God, your hands feel so good.” 

“Yours, too. Gregory.” Mycroft redoubled his efforts, wanting to make him spill.

Muffling his noises in Mycroft’s shoulder, Greg bit gently on the covered skin as he felt his orgasm drawing nearer. 

“Yes, come, Gregory,” panted Mycroft, forgetting his own pleasure to focus on Greg’s.

Greg gasped as pleasure swam over him, coming hard. 

Mycroft breathed him in, holding him with his other arm. “Yes, yes, so good.”

“You now,” Greg panted, getting his breath back with a grin, starting to stroke Mycroft off again. 

Mycroft relaxed against him, focusing on the pleasure, breathing come short as he spilled over Greg’s hand in moments.

Greg kissed him deeply, feeling giddy. “So good,” he murmured. “Gorgeous omega. God, Mycroft.” 

Mycroft rolled on top of him. “Good alpha.” He hitched up his pants reluctantly. “Thank you.”

Greg chuckled. “You’re welcome,” he said, caressing Mycroft’s cheek with his clean hand. “Thank you.” 

“Let’s just stay here a bit longer before heading home.”

“All right.” Greg murmured, tucking his head to Mycroft’s chest. “I've got wet wipes in the bags though.” He reached out blindly, snagging it and bringing it over, slowly cleaning off Mycroft’s belly and hand before turning to himself, finishing up with a smile. “There,” he said, kissing Mycroft again and then laying back down with a sigh. 

They stayed there for a while longer, and then Greg stirred. “C’mon,” he said. “I better get you home, otherwise we’ll freeze on the bike, jackets or not.” 

“Okay. We should do this again soon.” Mycroft stretched and helped him clean up the picnic, resting his head on Greg’s shoulder as they drove back.

Greg smiled as they pulled into Mycroft’s drive. “If I kiss you, will I be being watched?” he asked. 

“Probably. Do it anyway.”

Greg chuckled as Mycroft took off his helmet, and removed his own, tucking it under his arm. “If you insist,” he said, and cupped his cheek, drawing him in for a lingering kiss. 

Mycroft smiled into the kiss, only to pull back as he saw Sherlock step out. On instinct he moved between Greg and the omega. “Sherlock?”

Sherlock let out a quiet growl. “What did he do? You smell like him,” he hissed, eyes growing dark.

Mycroft put a hand on Sherlock’s chest. “Nothing I didn’t want him to do, Sherlock.”

“What’s happening here?” Greg asked. “I-”

“Shut up, Lestrade!” Sherlock spat out. “You marked him!”

“Hold on, he didn’t mind it,” Greg said quickly. 

“Sherlock.” Mycroft took his arm and tried to pull him away. “I’m an adult and I can make my own decisions. I wasn’t forced to do anything.”

“You reek of Alpha sweat and seed,” Sherlock snapped. “How dare-”

“Look, I’m just going to leave,” Greg said gently, looking between them. “Whatever this is...I don’t think it’s my right to be involved. Sherlock is obviously upset, and if I’m not standing here, maybe he’ll believe you when you say I didn’t force you into anything.” 

“I’ll call you,” said Mycroft, glancing back at him. “I had a good time.”

“I’m glad,” Greg said. “Keep the helmet, yeah? Maybe we’ll take her for a proper spin some other time.” 

“Okay.” Mycroft smiled at him, keeping a hand on Sherlock until Greg was out of the driveway. “Now. I’m not hurt, Sherlock.”

“You...You rutted with him in a field,” Sherlock snapped. “Like a bloody animal.” 

“We fooled around a bit, yes, but I wanted to. Sherlock, you set this up, did you expect us to keep our hands off each other when we’ve both been pining for years?”

“I-” Sherlock huffed. “I hardly expected you two to go about it like this,” he muttered, shoulders drooping. “I thought perhaps to pay you back a bit for what you’ve sacrificed for me over the years, though I didn’t expect you two to...I...not at this point.” 

“Sherlock…” said Mycroft quietly, putting a hand on his brother’s arm. “If it would make you feel better I can refrain.”

Sherlock hesitated and then shook his head minutely. “No. You’re happy, Mycroft. I can see that.” He swallowed hard. “But I don’t want...to see the evidence like this. If you can refrain from being in my presence after you’ve engaged in coitus for at least some time, I would be appreciative.” 

“I’ll do my best. I’m…sorry, Sherlock.” Mycroft swallowed hard.

“It isn’t your fault,” Sherlock replied. “None of this was your fault.” 

“You know I only ever wanted to keep you safe. And I’m very proud of how far you’ve come. Now, how is William doing?” He guided Sherlock into the house.


	5. Chapter 5

Greg pulled up to the house, still a bit shocked. He parked the bike, then walked in, hanging his jacket up. He’d been dating Mycroft, slowly finding himself more and more interested in the man, closer and closer to saying those four magic words, even though Mycroft was still reticent, even though it had been nearly four years since they’d made their relationship official, two years since they’d moved in together. “Mycroft!” he called, only to have William run into the hall with a laugh. 

“Hi Greg! Mum’s upstairs in the shower,” he said. “We were gardening and I left the hose running, and Mum fell into the mud puddle.” He grinned. “Are you making dinner tonight?”

Greg chuckled, taking in the dirt in the nearly ten year old’s hair. “Yeah, I am. Don’t you have homework?”

“Already done!” William called, running out into the back garden again.

Greg shook his head and went up stairs, stepping into the bathroom with a quiet tap at the door. “Well, hello,” he said with a sly smile, looking at Mycroft lounging in the tub. “This is not a shower.” He sat down on the side, dragging his fingers through the water. “You won’t believe what happened today.” 

Mycroft opened his eyes with a slow smile. “Anderson did a perfect backflip out of a moving police van?”

“Hardly,” Greg said, skimming his hand over Mycroft’s thigh. “More amazing actually. I’m surprised you don’t know about it. Sherlock showed up at the crime scene finally, but he brought an alpha with him.” 

Mycroft sat up, splashing water. “I was in closed meetings all day.” He reached for his mobile, frowning.

“It’s all right,” Greg said. “Sherlock likes him. And I like him, too. An army doctor.” Greg’s own mobile alerted and he cursed. “Hold on.” 

Mycroft grabbed a towel, watching Greg take the call.

Greg ran a hand through his hair, biting his lip anxiously. “Yeah, all right. Yeah, I’ll come back. An hour maybe.” 

He hung up and looked at Mycroft. “I’ll have to take a rain check on cooking dinner, I’ve got to go back to the office.” 

“Okay. It looks like I need to do some work, too. I’ll have the nanny come over.”

“All right, love.” Greg smiled, and leaned in for an unintentionally wet kiss. “Sorry I disturbed your bath. I’ll have to make it up to you later.” He stroked a hand over Mycroft’s cock, and then stood with a wink. 

Mycroft smiled at him, then dressed quickly and precisely before going downstairs. “William, I have to go out for a bit, Nanny will be here in a minute.”

“Aw, all right. Is Greg staying?” William asked, poking his head in the door.

“He already left. Sorry son, we’ll make it up to you.”

“Oh. It’s okay. Will you be back later today?” 

“We will. In time for bedtime.”

“All right then.” William smiled. “Love you, mum.”

“Love you, too.” Mycroft smiled at him and hurried out. 

**

“I have a phone you know,” John said. 

“What is your relationship with Sherlock Holmes?”

John frowned, looking over the strange omega. “I don’t have one. I barely know him.” 

“And yet you've moved in with him.”

“I needed a place to stay.” 

“I see.” Mycroft consulted his notebook. “Just back from the war. Finances are tight. Perhaps you'd accept a small stipend.”

“For what?” John asked, guarded.

“Keeping an eye on him of course. And reporting back to me.”

“No. Is that all?” John asked. 

Mycroft sighed “No? Very well. Do take care of him.” The alpha was defensive and Mycroft couldn't blame him. “I worry about him...constantly.”

John gave a sharp nod and turned around, limping out of the warehouse, cane echoing as it hit the floor. 

Mycroft watched him go, pulling out his mobile. 

**  
“Well, he was a very bad cabbie,” John said, wetting his lips as he looked at Sherlock, grinning.

Mycroft watched the two of them together. Maybe this would be just what Sherlock needed. 

John frowned as he spotted him. “This is the one I was telling you about.”

Sherlock groaned. “Mycroft. Must you?” 

“Just making sure,” Mycroft said. 

John looked between them. “Sherlock?”

“You have yours, leave me to mine,” Sherlock hissed. 

Mycroft stepped back. “Of course.”

Greg came over, glancing between the brothers. “Everything all right, love?” 

“Fine, Gregory. Goodnight, Sherlock.”

Sherlock turned on his heel and left. 

Greg glanced at John and shrugged. “Well,” he said, as John gave a stiff nod and followed after him. “So, are we going to ignore what happened here?” 

“What do you mean?”

“Sherlock started deducing who shot the cabbie, then shut up once he got a glimpse at John. I'm not stupid, love.” 

“Of course you aren’t. Let’s just go home. He was protecting Sherlock.”

“Why do you think I let it go?” Greg asked. “I'll come home in a bit. Gotta finish dealing with this.”

Mycroft squeezed his hand. “Okay. I’ll get William put to bed.” 

“All right. Love you.” 

**

Sherlock stood in the kitchen, flitting around and tidying his petri plates, listening to John upstairs. Something about him settled Sherlock, had made his body immediately perk when he’d entered the lab, making him feel that he needed John nearby. The common feeling of hidden rage toward alphas, designed to keep him safe wasn’t there, the wall he’d built wasn’t there. And he was still sorting out exactly why, but failing to come to a conclusion. He turned as he heard John come down, hiding the ear he was holding away. 

“Morning, Sherlock.” John scratched his belly and headed for the kettle. “Did you sleep?”

“No.” Sherlock quickly stowed the dish in the freezer and headed to the table to sit. 

“You really should,” John chided gently. 

Sherlock shifted, uneasy about the strange guilt he felt in dissapointing John. “Sleep is boring.”

John chuckled. “But necessary.” He put a cup into Sherlock's hand. He didn't know why he wanted to take care of this omega as much as he did. 

Sherlock frowned. “Did you make me tea?” 

“It looks like it, doesn't it,” teased John. 

“Yes. But you made it for me. Are you attempting to take care of me?” Sherlock asked, looking at him as he sat down. “I don't need a caretaker. Or an alpha.” 

John shrugged. “I don't have to be either.”

Sherlock stared John down, then brought the mug to his mouth. He grimaced. “Two sugars next time please.” 

“All right.” John sipped his own and picked up the paper. 

Sherlock looked at him curiously; then busied himself at his microscope.


	6. Chapter 6

“My,” Greg said quietly. “Can I ask a question?”

Mycroft put the book he was reading aside, hearing Greg’s tone. “Yes?”

Greg hesitated, then shifted closer, laying over Mycroft’s legs. “Do you...would you ever want to bond with me?” he murmured, setting his chin on Mycroft’s stomach. “Because if I'm being honest...I love you. So much. And if we never bond, that's all right. I just...I needed to ask. I need to know.” 

Mycroft’s heart went to his throat. He ran his fingers through Greg’s hair. “I know I don’t say it enough, but I do love you. Sometimes...I forget we aren’t bonded already. You live with me, you help raise my son. I know I don’t have many heats, but when I do, you’re here too. And now that Sherlock seems to be taken care of... Yes, Gregory.”

“Really?” Greg asked, swallowing hard. “I mean...you're not just agreeing to keep me happy or anything? You want to?” 

“I’ve wanted to for a long time,” Mycroft said honestly. “Like I said, we’re practically bonded already. We should probably ask William if he’d be okay with it, but I certainly am.”

“I would ask him first, before we do anything,” Greg said, turning his head to kiss Mycroft’s palm. “He’s your son. He comes first. I love him as well. Not just you.” 

“And you are infinitely patient with Sherlock as well.”

“Course,” Greg said with a smile. He moved then, crawling up Mycroft’s body with slow, practiced movements to look him in the eyes. “I love you,” he repeated. “Let me show you just how much?” 

Mycroft let a breath slip from his lips and nodded. “Yes, Gregory. Alpha. My alpha.”

Greg leaned down, stealing a kiss, slowly undoing Mycroft's shirt. “Do you want to play tonight?” he asked, nuzzling Mycroft's bare chest. 

“What did you have in mind?”

“I could tie you up,” Greg murmured. “Let you lose yourself for a bit. I know you're stressed, love.” 

Mycroft nodded. “Yes, please.”

“Lemme go get them then. Do you want a gag?” Greg asked, kissing his belly. 

“That would be best. Don’t want to wake William.”

Greg smiled. “Your favourite one then?” he said, getting up. 

“Excellent.” Mycroft got out of bed and stripped himself. “When do you wish to bond?”

“Whenever you’re ready,” Greg called back from the closet. “Do you want to wait for your next heat?” 

“I don’t know when that will be.”

“Then do you want to take a weekend to ourselves?” Greg asked, coming back out. “Just the two of us. Away somewhere quiet. Somewhere I can ravish you, take you, tease you for hours?” he asked, wrapping his arms around Mycroft’s waist, nipping at the back of his neck. 

Mycroft moaned softly. “I would. Do you think John would be good with William?”

“I think so,” Greg murmured, scenting Mycroft. “Sherlock trusts him, My. That’s no easy feat.” 

“Especially not an alpha. Well, we’ll see what William says and if he’s okay with everything, then you and I will make plans. Perhaps a formal ceremony and then a quiet honeymoon?”

“A formal ceremony?” Greg asked. “I’d like that. Anything else?” 

“I’m not sure. Just something small so that our families can be there. I’ll speak to my bosses about time off.”

“Good. I will too.” Greg smiled. “Ready? Tell me your safe word.” 

“Eiffell.”

Greg kissed him and then shoved him to the bed, pinning him down. 

Mycroft groaned, heart in his throat as he looked up at the alpha that had chosen him.

“Are you going to behave for me?” Greg growled, sliding his hand over Mycroft’s thigh. “Or do I need to tie you down?” 

“Tie me down.”

Greg pushed him further up the bed, tying him up in a quick harness, legs spread wide with his knees to his chest, then hauled off and slapped him on the arse. “You’re fuckin’ gorgeous, My. And you’re mine.” 

“Gag me, Gregory. Three raps.”

“Open!” Greg nodded, taking the gag and shoving it into Mycroft’s mouth, buckling it. “Pretty omega,” he crooned. “Gagged and tied up for me. Only me. Do you want my cock?” 

Mycroft took a breath and relaxed, nodding.

“How much? Show me,” Greg said, running a thumb around the ring. “Let me hear you beg.” 

Mycroft whimpered softly around the gag, trying to show him with his eyes.

“Louder,” Greg said slapping his arse again.

Mycroft moaned louder, lightly tugging at his bonds.

“Good, love,” Greg said. “Do you want me to use your mouth or your arse?” 

Mycroft wiggled his arse at him.

Greg spanked him again, smiling. “Need my cock, don’t you, love? Want it so bad.” 

Mycroft moaned again, tugging lightly on his bonds.

Greg chuckled and leaned down to kiss him, pulling back as there was a loud, frightened scream from the other side of the hall. “Shit,” he said. “William.” He quickly untied Mycroft’s hands and hopped off the bed. “I’ll go.” 

Mycroft nodded and freed himself the rest of the way, making sure he looked presentable before crossing the hall. His heart ached as he saw William curled up in Greg’s arms, sniffling, one of Sherlock’s scarves in his arms.

Greg looked up, rubbing William’s back in slow soothing circles. “Do you wanna call Sherlock and have him tell you about how none of it’s real and deduce the monsters?” Greg asked quietly, smiling softly at Mycroft. “Or do you want your mum to do it?”

William sniffed, burying his head in Greg’s chest. “Can...I call Aunt Sherlock?” he mumbled. 

“I’ll get the mobile,” said Mycroft.

“Thanks, mum,” William whispered, clutching the scarf closer. “Sorry I woke you.”

“It’s okay,” Greg said, petting his hair back. 

Mycroft returned a moment later. “Here you go William. It’s late, but Sherlock never did sleep much so you should be fine. Let me know if you need anything else?”

William sniffed and sat up, hitting the button to call Sherlock.

Greg smiled and pressed a kiss to the top of his head.

**

John stood in the doorway, drink in his hand. “Sherlock?”

Sherlock tilted his head back off the couch, looking at him curiously. “Yes, John?”

“Can I speak with you?” he said, uncertainly.

Sherlock sighed. “If you must.” He swiveled, sitting up. “What is it? If it’s about the thumbs, I’m nearly done with them.” 

“It’s not about the thumbs.” John sighed and moved closer. “I know you said you were married to your work…”

Sherlock stiffened, heart leaping into his throat. “Yes? And?”

“Look, Sherlock, I don’t want to ruin...whatever this is…”

“What is this, John?” Sherlock asked. “We’re flatmates, aren’t we?” 

“Have you ever considered anything more?” He got out, taking another swig.

“Anything more? With you?” Sherlock asked, heart pounding in his ears as he got a whiff of John’s scent, as he realized how close John was to him. As he realized that he wasn’t afraid, and that the heavy weight pooling in his stomach was desire, and that he didn’t know how to react. “I-”

His phone rang, the ringtone shrill and loud and Sherlock leapt from the couch. “My mobile. Where is it?” he asked, robe swirling around him as he turned.

John nearly choked on his drink as he turned and fetched it for him. “Here.”

Sherlock snatched it, answering immediately. “William? Another nightmare? Well, go on then, tell me,” he said, moving over to perch in his chair. 

John sighed, looked at his drink, and went to put on the kettle, knowing Sherlock would be a while.

**

Greg tucked William in. “I left the mobile on the dresser,” he said quietly. “In case you need it again, all right, Will?” 

William yawned, and nodded. “Thanks, Greg,” he said sleepily. “Greg?”

“Yeah?” 

“D’you think...maybe I could call you da one day?”

“If you want to,” Greg said and stroked his hair back. “Would you like it if I bonded your mum?” he asked softly.

William nodded. “Yeah.” 

“I’d like to. But only if you’re both okay with it.”

“I want mum to be happy. And you’re good,” William mumbled. “You two should bond. It’d be nice to have a da. Can I have Aunt Sherlock’s scarf please?” 

Greg picked it up from the end of the bed, tucked it in around his pillow and turned off the light. “Good night, William. We’ll talk more in the morning.”

William mumbled an agreement as Greg stepped out, heading back to Mycroft.

“He’s down again,” Greg yawned, coming in. “Do you want to keep going, or should we just save it for another night?” he asked, crawling into bed and spooning Mycroft. 

“Save it. We’re all tired.” Mycroft snuggled back against him. “You’re good with him, and I’m grateful.”

Greg smiled and kissed his shoulder. “My? I’ve been meaning to ask...why does William carry Sherlock’s scarf with him? I mean...he sleeps with it, it calms him down... Why not one of yours if he’s after family scent?” 

“He’s always had something of Sherlock’s for comfort, ever since he was a baby,” said Mycroft, evading giving a straight answer. Because how could he explain the truth?

“That’s...understandable,” Greg said quietly, sensing that Mycroft was uncomfortable about the subject. “Do you...mind though? I mean, you’re his mum.”

Mycroft sighed and rolled onto his back, not quite looking at him. “I don’t mind. If it helps him then there’s no reason for me to get upset about it.”

“Okay.” Greg kissed his cheek, deciding to drop it. “Ready for bed then?” he asked, reaching out for the light.

“Yes.” Mycroft lay awake for a while, listening as Greg fell asleep. He’d raised William, done the best he could by him, but in some ways he’d never felt that William was truly his. He was theirs, his and Sherlock’s...and now Greg’s. Even when Sherlock had been physically gone, he’d always been a part of William’s life. Sometimes Mycroft had wondered if Sherlock would ever take him back, claim him as his own. He was grateful that he had not. He loved his son because he was his son, but he also knew that Sherlock could fill in the missing pieces, like being on speed dial or giving William something with his scent.

He hadn’t been entirely truthful with Greg. Sometimes, if he was truly honest, it did bother him that William preferred turning to Sherlock’s scent for comfort, or call him up when he had a nightmare or a bad day. But he’d never give in to jealousy; it was better for all of them.


	7. Chapter 7

Sherlock shifted in his chair, staring at John as he slept, having fallen asleep on the couch. William’s phone call had interrupted them two weeks before, and John had tried three more times to bring up the subject again, each time Sherlock having changed the subject. There was too much explaining to do, too much emotion to handle with a relationship. Even if John made him...want. 

John stirred and slowly opened his eyes, finding Sherlock watching him. There was something heartbreaking in his eyes. John found that he yearned for him. But Sherlock had made it clear that it wasn’t in the cards. He could learn to live with that, had been, it seemed.

Sherlock blinked and looked away as John woke up. “Good morning.” 

“Morning,” said John rubbing the crick in his neck from sleeping on the sofa.

Sherlock watched him from the corner of his eye, debating his action, wondering what it would be like to have gentle hands on his body, lips on his own that were _wanted_. “Breakfast?” he asked, standing.

“Sure.” John sat up and stretched, his hand gently touching Sherlock’s arm.

Sherlock flinched, and immediately stiffened, cursing himself. He’d gotten used to the unintentional touches, but if he wasn’t expecting them, he still jumped. 

“Sorry,” said John, pulling his hand back like it had been burned. He knew Sherlock didn’t like being touched. 

“It’s fine,” Sherlock said. “I...don’t mind when _you_ touch me. It only startled me.” 

John swallowed. “I imagine someone must have hurt you very badly at some time.”

Sherlock froze, heart in his throat, pounding loudly as he heard John shift behind him. “And why would you say that?” 

“The way you don’t like to be touched, mostly. I’ve seen it before, when I worked in A&E some during my residency.”

Sherlock said nothing, only letting his head drop. “It was my own fault,” he said quietly. 

John swallowed hard and scooted over, making room for Sherlock if he wanted to sit. “If you didn’t want it, then they were wrong for taking advantage of you. For hurting you.”

Sherlock rubbed at his forearm. “Would you?” he asked. “I don’t think you would.” 

“Never.”

Sherlock turned around, simply looking at John, heart still pounding. “I know you want me,” he said. “I know you’ve been trying to ask.” 

“I do want you,” said John, too tired to deflect, “but if you don't that's fine.”

“I'm not broken,” Sherlock said struggling a bit with the words. “I still want….But I don't want people, John. I don't want an alpha.” 

John gave a sad smile and stood. “That's fine, Sherlock. I understand.”

“John, wait,” Sherlock said quickly, reaching out and grabbing him by the shoulders as a frisson of panic ran down his spine at the idea John would leave. “I don't want an alpha.” 

John looked up at him. “But?”

“I…” Sherlock wet his lips. “I don't want an alpha. But...I..if..You…” He broke off with a slightly frustrated huff. “Oh, this is pointless!” he snapped. “I can't even say the words, how would I even know how to act?” 

He collapsed onto the couch, pressing the heels of his hands to his eyes almost violently. “I want you,” he gritted out. 

John sucked in a breath before sitting next to him again. Cautiously, he touched Sherlock’s thigh. “I can take things as slow as you want, Sherlock. Or not at all. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Yes, you will,” Sherlock said miserably. “You'll realize I'm just what everyone says.”

“You’re not a freak, Sherlock. Or a psychopath. You’re you and I’m okay with that.”

“But I can't even kiss you,” Sherlock said. “I don't kn…” he trailed off, shaking his head. “Never mind.” 

“What, Sherlock?”

“It's nothing of importance, it will only make you pity me,” Sherlock said stonily, raising his head though his hands trembled. 

“Nothing could.” John reached out and took one of his hands.

Sherlock's breath left him in a quiet whoosh. “I want to kiss you,” he murmured. 

“May I, Sherlock?”

“I won't know how to reciprocate,” Sherlock said, looking at John. 

“Let’s just see how it goes, eh? Like an experiment?” John licked his lips as he looked up at him.

Sherlock nodded, still a bit wary. 

John leaned in. “May I kiss you?” he asked again.

“Yes.” Sherlock shut his eyes and waited. 

Slowly, carefully, John leaned forward and brushed his lips against Sherlock’s. Barely a kiss at all. He wanted Sherlock, wanted to show him that it didn’t have to be bad or violent, but he would take his time.

Sherlock opened his eyes as John pulled away, immediately narrowing them. “Is that all?” he asked, heart thudding at the urge he felt to chase John’s kiss, to have him cover his body, feel his hands on him. 

John smiled. “There can be more.” He leaned in to kiss him again, a little harder.

Sherlock raised his hands, slowly placing them on John’s shoulder, feeling him shift closer.

John hummed softly, deepening the kiss, careful not to trap the skittish omega though he knew his arousal was obvious. 

Sherlock opened his mouth under John, surprised to feel a quiet moan bubbling up and escaping him. He pulled back quickly. “Sorry!” 

“It’s okay,” said John, cupping his cheek. “That means it feels good.”

“Yes, it did,” Sherlock replied, wetting his lips. He met John’s eyes, and then leaned in of his own accord, pressing their lips together, experimenting with the angle.

John groaned encouragingly, licking against the seam of Sherlock’s lips.

Sherlock opened under him, reaching down and taking John’s hand, putting it on his hip. 

John squeezed, smelling Sherlock’s arousal in turn. Without breaking the kiss he shifted Sherlock so the omega was straddling his lap, giving him control over what happened next. 

Sherlock pulled away, searching John’s gaze. “John? Why did you do that?” 

“What? Tug you into my lap?”

“You have me on top,” Sherlock replied, hesitantly rocking his hips down and putting his arms around John’s neck. 

“Because you are in control of this. We’ll go as far you want and no farther.” He groaned softly at Sherlock’s movements.

A gleam of interest sparked in Sherlock’s eye and he rocked down again, watching John’s reaction.

John dropped his head back and moaned, squeezing his hips.

Sherlock lowered his head curiously, pressing their lips together as he repeated the motion, feeling his cock take interest. 

John licked into his mouth, cupping Sherlock’s arse and grinding up against him.

Sherlock gasped, and shuddered with a low moan as John pushed up, their cocks pushing against each other. 

“I do want you,” murmured John.

“I think I want you, too,” Sherlock admitted in a whisper, tucking his head down to breath in John’s scent, taking the comfort he was searching for from it. 

John offered his throat, hands moving back to Sherlock’s arse.

Sherlock stiffened, then swallowed hard, pressing his lips shakily to John’s throat. 

John moved his hands. “It’s okay, Sherlock.”

“Sorry,” Sherlock whispered. “I...put them back? Please?” 

John nodded and put them back, squeezing gently, rocking up against him.

Sherlock kissed him again, analyzing the feel of John's hands on him, the hard length pressing against him, the sparks of want fizzling over his spine. “John?” he murmured. “I want to try something.” 

“Yes?”

“I want...you to be on top of me,” Sherlock said, pulling back to look at him. 

“Okay. Here? Or did you want to go to your bed?”

Sherlock thought for a moment. “The bed,” he said quietly. 

“Okay. Come on.”

Sherlock stood, and went to his bedroom, opening the door. “Oh.” He went to the bed, tidying the case files strewn over it. 

John smiled and helped him move them to the side. “Did you want to stay dressed for now?”

“Yes. For now,” Sherlock said, sitting on the edge.

“Okay. Lie back?”

Sherlock obeyed, lying back stiffly. 

“Relax,” said John. “Do you know what a safe word is?

“A word generally used by those within the BDSM communities to indicate a full stop within the context of play or scene.” 

“Right. Good. I want you to pick something as your safeword.”

“What for?” Sherlock asked, sitting up. “You're hardly going to Dom me.” 

“No I’m not. But I want you to have a word that if, for any reason, you want me to stop, we’ll both know what it means.” John reached out and stroked his leg.

“Microscope?” Sherlock asked. “Is that acceptable to you then?” 

“Fine.” John got into bed and moved over him, kissing him as he encouraged him to lay back.

Sherlock let out a quiet sigh, forcing the bit of panic he felt back, running his hands over John’s back. 

“I won’t hurt you,” said John, kissing him again and offering his throat as he knelt over him.

“I know,” Sherlock said, half for himself, scenting John carefully. “I know.” 

John ran his fingers through Sherlock’s hair. “May I touch you? May I make you feel good?”

Sherlock nodded and took a deep breath, relaxing against the mattress. “I want you to touch me,” he said quietly. “I want you.” 

John nodded and kissed him again, just running his hand down Sherlock’s side for now, letting him get used to his touch as their scents mingled, arousal heavy in the air.

Sherlock ran his hands hesitantly over John's back, slipping under his jumper to feel the skin and muscle hidden away. 

John moaned softly. “Yeah. Feels good.”

“You hide how strong you are,” Sherlock murmured. 

“I suppose I do. Most people see my size and assume I’m just a runt.”

Sherlock chuckled, the sound warm and rich and surprising even to his own ears. He smiled and slid his hands lower, exploring the dip of John’s lower back and more hesitantly, the curve of his arse, toying with the idea of slipping his hands under John’s waistband. 

“Yeah. Feels good.” John worshiped Sherlock's throat, mindful to avoid his scent gland. 

“Can I take off your jumper?” Sherlock asked quietly. 

John nodded, kneeling back and pulling it over his head. 

Sherlock sat up, running his hands over John’s chest, toying with his nipples briefly before his eyes lit on John’s scar. “Can I?” 

“Anything you want.”

Sherlock spared him a distracted smile before palpating the flesh, seeing how the blood flow reacted to the pressure. He toyed for a few moments then leaned around to examine the back, running around the jagged edge of scar tissue with his fingernail. He looked up at John then leaned in, holding his gaze as he pressed a barely there kiss to the center of the wound. 

John smiled. “In and out. Almost died twice and then again when it got infected.”

“No,” Sherlock said quietly. “You can't leave me.” 

“I won't.” He leaned in to kiss him again. “I never could.”

Sherlock nodded and wrapped his arms around John, pulling him down, tucking his face in and just holding him, breathing in his scent. 

John pet his hair. “It’s okay. I’m here.”

“Can you stay here tonight?” Sherlock asked. “In my bed.” 

“I’d be honored to.” John kissed the top of his head.

Sherlock smiled. “Okay.” He ran his hands over John’s back again, huffing a content breath into his hair. “I need to go to Bart's. Molly has a brain.” 

“A very clever one,” chuckled John.” He tilted Sherlock’s chin and kissed him. “You all right to go out?” He let his other hand drift over the bulge in Sherlock’s pants.

Sherlock let out a surprised noise, tightening his grip on John. “Y..yes. I believe so.”

“I could help you with that.” John nuzzled into him.

“I…” Sherlock let out a quiet moan. “Just your hand?” 

“I could use my mouth if you wanted.”

“You want that?” Sherlock said quietly. “You want to?” 

“God, Sherlock, yes. I really do.”

“Okay,” Sherlock murmured. 

John kissed him again and move down his body, watching Sherlock’s face as he freed the omega’s cock.

Sherlock’s heart was in his throat, and he closed his eyes, threading his fingers through John’s hair as he took slow, steadying breaths.

Carefully, John licked a stripe up his small cock.

Sherlock moaned quietly, fisting the sheets with one hand. “It's not much,” he said quietly.

“Good.” John wrapped his mouth around the head of his cock. 

“I'm smaller than average,” Sherlock said, gasping a bit. “An average omega v...varies from four inches to five. I’m three.” 

“You're perfect,” said John, kissing the head of his cock before swallowing the whole thing. 

Sherlock pressed his head into the pillows, eyes squeezed shut. “John….” 

John ran his hands soothingly along Sherlock's hips, tongue working him over almost as much as his mouth. 

Sherlock moaned, hands flexing as something in his chest spun tighter, forcing his eyes open. “John…” he whispered, a moment of panic overwhelming him, but unable to get his word out as he choked on air, suddenly unable to breathe. “John.” 

John pulled off, feeling Sherlock's tension. He took his hand as he saw the panic. “Breathe, Sherlock,” he whispered. “I'm sorry. It's okay. Just breathe.” His own heart raced as he worried he'd truly hurt him. 

Sherlock bit off a whimper, instead inhaling deeply as he caught John’s eyes. He reached out and pulled John to him, hiding his face. “‘M sorry,” he muttered, panting rapidly. “I couldn't say it, I couldn't breathe. I ruined it.” 

“You didn't.” John pet his hair. “I probably went too fast. Forgive me?”

Nodding, Sherlock took a deep breath. “I'm not aroused any longer,” he said, disappointed, slightly irritated with himself.

“It's fine. We have time.”

“But I wanted to.” Sherlock tugged his pants back up, scrubbing his hands furiously through his hair as he sat up.

“We have time,” John repeated, laying a gentle kiss on his shoulder. “Go on. Get ready and go to Bart's.”


	8. Chapter 8

Greg trudged up the stairs after William later that day, watching him rap twice at the door to 221B before entering. “Hey, John,” he called. “Would it be amiss to ask for a cuppa?”

“Where's Aunt Sherlock?” William asked, frowning as he bounded back down the stairs. 

“At Bart’s doing some research with Molly. He got you this book though.” John handed it to him and turned in the kettle. “How are you doing, Greg?”

“All right,” Greg said, sitting down at the table. “Got an announcement to make.” 

“Oh?”

“Yeah.” Greg grinned, glancing over to William curled on the couch with his book, frowning. “William? All right?”

William shrugged. “I want to go ask Mrs. Hudson about the Everglades,” he said, flipping to the index of the book. “Can I go?”

“Yeah, go ahead,” Greg said. “Don't be a bother.”

William grinned. “I won't be. She loves me!” He hopped up, and ran down the stairs.

“Anyway,” Greg said. “Mycroft and I are going to bond. Full formal ceremony and all.” 

John grinned. “Congratulations!”

“Thanks,” Greg said. “I'm over the moon. Mycroft's wary, but secretly just as pleased. William’s agreed as well.” 

“Wonderful,” John said as he fixed Greg’s tea. “Say. How much do you know about Sherlock's past?”

“I know enough. Why?” Greg asked. 

John hesitated. “I'm not trying to pry. But someone hurt him, didn't they?”

Greg shifted his hands on his mug. “Have you asked him about this?” 

“Not exactly. We...we’ve grown close and he reacted badly.”

“How close?” Greg asked, narrowing his eyes. 

John fiddled with his cup. “Mostly kissing so far. More sent him into a panic.”

Greg sighed, leaning back in his chair. “You know about the drugs, yeah? Well...I pulled him out of a...worse situation once, before anything happened. But...I haven't always been there. This has been going on for a very long time.” 

“I knew he was skittish around most alphas.”

“He hides it well,” Greg said, nodding. “Holds himself away, disguises it with deductions and abrasiveness. He doesn't like to be touched. Except by you.”

“And even that’s new. I figured he’d been...abused somewhere along the line.” 

“By his parents or someone along those lines?” Greg asked quietly.

John shook his head. “I’ve never even met his parents. And I’m sure Mycroft would have put a stop to anything the moment he knew.” 

Greg nodded. “He would. But you're assuming that Sherlock always let Mycroft take care of him. And that Sherlock would let Mycroft find out.” He sighed. “Look, between us, I think that whatever happened to Sherlock, it was big and it was heartbreaking and it was something that is enough to send him into a panic anytime an alpha lays a hand on him. And I don't know if I want to know. And that's me saying that. I've seen enough shit to last a lifetime. I don't know if I'd be able to stay strong if they decided to tell me.” He took a long drink of his tea. “You have to be patient, John. Careful. If you did something, even on accident to hurt him... I don't know how he'd take it.”

“And Mycroft would probably see me at the bottom of the Thames,” said John, only half joking. “And I am being careful and patient. He wants this. I’m just trying to make sure he knows he’s safe with me.”

“That’ll take time,” Greg nodded. “I know that.” 

“If you need anything else, Greg. And we’ll watch William for your honeymoon, I know Sherlock will enjoy it. They’re close.”

Greg smiled, though something in the back of his mind questioned. “Yeah. Thanks John. We'd appreciate it.”

“No problem.”

Their chat turned to other topics, pausing only as they heard two sets of footsteps coming up the stair, William chattering excitedly about the Everglades while Sherlock asked questions about what he learned.

Greg smiled as they came in, nearly identical heads of dark curls tipped together over the book. “Hello you two,” he said, their eerie similarities making the little voice in his head whisper again until William looked up, eyes blue as Mycroft’s smiling back at him along with sugar covered lips. “I see Mrs. Hudson had cookies.”

William laughed. “Don't worry. I brought some for you and mum too.” 

Sherlock hung up his coat, swapping the scarf he was wearing for the one in William’s pocket without a word, nodding in greeting to Greg and looking at John. He brushed his hand hesitantly against John’s as he walked past, going for the fridge. “Molly asked for help with an odd liver. I was kept later than expected.” 

“It’s all right,” said John. “Why don’t we go out to dinner, all of us. Maybe Mycroft will come too? Greg came over with an announcement.”

Sherlock turned immediately to Greg, eyes narrowed. “Must you?” he asked, voice steeped in derision.

“Oh, come off it Sherlock. It's been nearly seven….”

William took Sherlock's hand, Greg trailing off curiously as he smiled up at Sherlock. “I'm excited,” William said. “I want a da. One who cares about me.” He squeezed Sherlock’s hand. “Please be happy for them. And me, too.”

Sherlock swallowed hard. “I...I am happy for him,” he said. “But don't you ever tell your mum I admitted it. Excuse me,” he said, squeezing William’s hand back. “I have to use the loo.”

He darted from the kitchen and William sighed. “It's okay, Greg. He'll come around,” he said, nodding and going to fiddle with Sherlock’s violin, tuning it slowly. 

John watched them. “Call Mycroft, see if he can join us all for dinner.” He walked to the bathroom door and knocked. “Sherlock, you okay?”

The lock clicked and the door opened just a smidgen, a small change, but an invitation nonetheless. 

John slipped inside and closed the door behind them, gently reaching out to rub Sherlock’s back. “Is it so bad?”

“The first time Greg and my brother….enjoyed congress,” Sherlock gritted out. “I very nearly disemboweled him on the spot.” 

John nodded. “And even after all this time, it still bothers you that they’re together?”

Sherlock shifted anxiously. “I want them to be happy,” he said. “I do.” 

“I know, and they do too. Join us for dinner?”

Sherlock nodded. “I...never expected to have what they have, so seeing it...I don't believe it. Do you understand? I worry. For my brother, for William. Especially for William.” 

“Do you think Greg would ever hurt him?”

“No.” Sherlock swallowed. “Only by leaving.”

“I think you’re right. You going to be okay for dinner?”

Sherlock nodded and John squeezed his hand.

**

Late that night, Mycroft lay in Greg’s arms. “You’ve got something on your mind.”

“Mhm,” Greg mumbled in agreement, kissing Mycroft’s forehead. “Few things actually.” 

“Well? I will always be as honest with you as I can, Gregory.”

“Do you ever think about having another kid?” Greg asked. 

Mycroft was still for a moment then held Greg a little tighter. “Sometimes. With the right person. With you.” A child of his own blood...it was not something he’d let himself think of often. After all, he didn’t want William to feel left out.

“William has talked about having a brother,” Greg admitted. “And I mean…we have one amazing kid, don't we? Why not double up? I'd love more kids. Love to see you all swollen and round,” he said with a quiet chuckle. “Do you get bad cravings?” 

“I don’t remember,” he said, the secret burning hot inside of him. He should be honest, tell Greg everything.

“How can you not remember?” Greg teased. “Pregnancy mush brain? I mean, it's bad enough you didn't take a single picture of you during the pregnancy so I can fawn over you, but how am I supposed to know if I should stock up on anchovies or chocolates?” He laughed and kissed Mycroft’s cheek. “Was labor so bad you blocked out the whole pregnancy?” 

Mycroft felt like he had rocks in his stomach. But he had never expected to care for anyone the way he cared for Greg. “Must be it,” he said faintly. How could he tell him he had no idea what a normal pregnancy was like? Most of Sherlock’s had been a struggle for sobriety and nightmares and a new job. And then it had been a newborn and motherhood, and the books never quite prepared you...plus Sherlock had vanished and he worried about him constantly, watching his brother’s son grow and trying to convince himself that he could at all be the mother Sherlock and William needed him to be.

Greg felt Mycroft grow tense. “Hey,” he said quietly, squeezing Mycroft tight. “You know I'm only teasing, right? I know that was a rough time for you. And we don't have to talk about kids right now. I just…wanted to bring it up. See if you'd be open to it.” He kissed him gently. “Mycroft….if you need to ever just talk about it. Talk about his father, talk about being a single mum, being pregnant alone. Taking care of Sherlock and working and William. I'm here. You can come clean of all the nasty secret thoughts that bother you. And I'll still be here when you're done. I love you.” 

Mycroft wrapped him in his arms. “I love you, too,” he said softly, sincerely. “And I’d love to have a child with you. If...if you wanted I could get a work up, see what we need to do since my heats aren’t regular.”

Greg smiled. “I'd love that. We can go together. Bloodwork, the whole thing. Oh, and I got a call from the planner today. The gardens we wanted are open on the nineteenth. I think that's going to be our wedding day.”

“Good.” Mycroft kissed the top of his head, still anxious, but wanting more than anything to have Gregory permanently in his life.

**  
Greg met Mycroft in the waiting room of the fertility clinic a few weeks later. He gave a tired smile, pecking Mycroft on the lips. “Hi, love. Cake’s sorted. Can't believe we've only got what, three weeks left to go?” He grinned and squeezed Mycroft’s hand as they were called back. “No time to sit I guess. C’mon.”

They went in, sitting down in the doctor's office, Greg threading his fingers through Mycroft’s as the doctor came in. “Hello,” he said, smiling at her. 

She nodded at the pair and sat.

Mycroft could tell already it was bad news. He gripped Greg’s hand a little tighter as the doctor opened up a pair of files. “You, Mister Lestrade have no issues. However...Mister Holmes. I’m sorry, but the odds of you ever becoming pregnant are slim to none, and even if you did, it’s not likely you could successfully carry a pup to term.”

Greg sat up a bit straighter. “I...I'm sorry, could you repeat that? Are you sure you have the right file?” He glanced at Mycroft in disbelief and worry. “He's already had a...is this something to do with the first pregnancy? Something went wrong in labor?” 

“Mister Holmes did not state that he’d been pregnant before, nor is there anything in his medical records indicating so.”

Mycroft cut Greg off before he could argue, wondering if this had all been a mistake. “She’s right,” he said softly. “I...I’ve not actually carried a pup.” He couldn’t look at Greg or the doctor. Maybe he’d been a fool to even agree to this, he’d long suspected with his irregular heats that there could be a problem if he ever chose to have children. But Greg had seemed so excited by the idea, and he had wondered what it would be like to carry one of his own. And now they were here and everything was coming apart at the seams.

“But, Mycroft...I don't understand, I mean William…” Greg trailed off, everything that he'd questioned over the past seven years, every tiny whisper suddenly coalescing into a shout, roaring inside his head. “He’s Sherlock's, isn't he?” Greg said, hand slowly slipping from Mycroft’s. “Sherlock is William’s mum.” 

Mycroft winced at his choice of words. Seven years and he’d just thrown it all away, and for what? A selfish chance at bearing his own pup? “I’m sorry,” he said faintly, struggling to his feet, tears stinging his eyes. Greg had been William’s father in all but name for half his life, how was Mycroft going to explain this to him?

“Mycroft, wait, hold on,” Greg said, reaching out to him. “God, how...he must have been barely sixteen.” Greg stood up, pulling Mycroft to him as the doctor stood and left to give them privacy. “Mycroft. Look at me, love. My,” he crooned, taking him into his arms. “Help me understand.” 

Still unable to look him in the eyes, Mycroft allowed himself to be folded against Greg’s chest, trembling. “I wanted to tell you,” he said softly. “Yes, Sherlock was barely sixteen, still on drugs until the moment we confirmed his pregnancy. He was in no shape to take care of a child. I...I was barely out of college myself, but I was still in a better position than him. And he wanted it to be a secret. We told no one, not even our parents.”

“The father,” Greg said slowly, stroking Mycroft’s back. “He...he's why Sherlock flinches. Doesn't trust alphas.” 

“We don’t know who the father was. That time you found him...he was trying to find out. I found him once with an alpha...probably would have killed him if Sherlock hadn’t stopped me. But it was after that that we found and confirmed his pregnancy.”

Greg pressed a kiss Mycroft’s cheek. “All right,” he murmured. “You're all right. William and Sherlock are fine too. Let's just go home, okay? No more work for the day for either of us. We need to have a long chat. And probably call up Sherlock, too.”

“Okay. I love you, Gregory. I wanted to tell you, but I never knew how. And it isn’t just my secret.”

“I know. And I love you, too,” Greg murmured. He pulled away, taking Mycroft’s jacket and helping him get it on, then wrapping an arm around him, walking them slowly out to the waiting car, shielding him from watching eyes. 

“I feel selfish,” said Mycroft, wanting nothing more than to curl up in Greg's arms. 

“Why love?” Greg asked, opening the door and pulling Mycroft in. 

“Because I wanted to carry a child of my own.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Greg said, heart constricting at the tone in Mycroft’s voice he was obviously trying to hide. “Come here.” He coaxed Mycroft over, pulling him against his chest. “Listen. Wanting to carry a child of your own isn't selfish, even if you have one already,” he said, holding Mycroft tight as they started off home. “And it is okay to be upset.” He pressed a kiss to Mycroft’s head. “It's okay to be disappointed that you can't carry a kid in here. It's all right if you want to cry or scream or do something ridiculous, love. And I'll be here to do it right along with you,” he murmured, stroking Mycroft’s hair back, catching his gaze.

Mycroft's heart broke at the kindness and love in Greg's eyes. “Have to tell Sherlock I told you,” he said faintly. “I’ve tried to do my best. By both of them.”

“We’ll deal with Sherlock later,” Greg said quietly. “You have done your best. More than, love. But right now, he's got William and they're apparently designing a mini Everglades in the bath. They're both fine. I want to talk about you. How are you feeling? Beyond all the guilt over telling me and that worry.” 

“I don't know much beyond guilt and worry,” he smiled faintly. “I'm glad you're here. You're all I wanted for myself.”

“Well, if you can be happy with me, I have good news,” Greg said. “I'm not going anywhere.” He shifted them both so Mycroft was straddling his lap, and then drew him in for a slow kiss. “I love you,” he whispered, pulling away just a bit. “I love all of you. No matter what.” 

Mycroft sighed and rest his head on Greg’s shoulder. “Can I tell you the whole story?”

Greg nodded, dropping a kiss to his head. “Yeah, love.” 

Mycroft closed his eyes. “I don't know when Sherlock started using, but he was always troubled. After I graduated college my parents asked if he could stay with me in London, hoping the change of scene would do him good. It… didn't. I was juggling starting my own career with trying to keep a hold of him. Sometimes he would just vanish for a few days, show back up high and surly. “

“Then one day he was gone for a week. When I found him again… well as I said, I might have killed that alpha if he hadn't stopped me. As it turned out, he was already pregnant, by about a month and half. I took more time to care for him while he sobered up. And I got fired from my job.”

Greg nodded. “Is that how you got the one you have now?” he asked quietly. 

“Yes. They'd heard of my talents. When they offered me a job I was in no position to refuse. Sherlock wanted me to take his pup so I did. He vanished from the hospital when I went to pick up William.”

“Where'd he go?” Greg asked. “Drugs?” 

“I believe so. He appeared at Christmas with a present for William, then took off again. He wanted to sober up, but he struggled. It wasn't until he started working with you that he was able to keep sobriety in his grasp. Aside from that slip up.”

“Yeah. Did something about this situation cause it, or was it just a slip up?” Greg asked, rubbing his back in slow circles. 

“He wanted to find William's father.”

“Oh,” Greg said quietly. “I see. Did he?” 

“No. We never have. I...I've looked some myself. Sherlock doesn't know that.”

“I think you should take today to sort out your thoughts. Tell him what happened today tomorrow. And have you two ever talked about telling William?” 

“No. I… I've just never tried to get in the way of their relationship. Though sometimes...”

“Sometimes?” Greg asked gently.

Mycroft sighed. “Sometimes I worry that Sherlock will take him back. That he’ll decide he’s capable of being William’s mum. Properly. I wouldn’t stop him if that’s what he and William wanted.”

“But you would be upset,” Greg said. “Right?” 

“I've always been his mother,” said Mycroft. “Of course I'd be upset if he chose someone else. But I wouldn't stop him either. I've never felt like he's mine. Not entirely. He's ours. I suppose that's why I had hoped…”

“You wanted a child that's fully yours?” Greg asked. “To carry your own?” 

“Selfish,” he muttered as the car came to a stop, slipping from Greg’s lap. 

“Hey,” Greg said, grabbing his arm as they got out of the car, turning him to look at him. “It's not selfish. You are the least selfish person I know. Mycroft Holmes. And wanting to have another child is not selfish.” 

“Clearly I'm not meant to have pups of my own.”

“Clearly that's bull shit,” Greg replied. “You are an amazing mother. If you still want to try, want to go through the treatments and try we will. And if you want to find a surrogate, we will. Whatever you want to do, I am here for you.” Greg said, catching Mycroft’s gaze and holding it, not letting him deflect. “And whatever we need to do, we will. Do you understand me?” 

Mycroft nodded, heart aching. 

“Come here,” Greg said, pulling him in for a hug. “You're not broken,” he murmured. “Having pups is not what gives you worth. Omega or not.” 

Mycroft leaned against him. “I barely have heats, let alone anything else. As you pointed out, Sherlock is William's mum.”

“Yeah, he is. William’s birth mother. But you're his mum. You're the one who has taken care of him from day one. And William might like Sherlock’s scent better, and call him when he has nightmares, but at the end of day, you are who he wants to tuck him in and hug him and love him. Do you understand? _You are his mum, ___” Greg said, squeezing Mycroft’s hands. “And I don't care if you don't have heats. You smell like heaven, you're beautiful, you're fucking brilliant and you _chose ___me . You accepted me for me, so let me accept you for you. I want you, Mycroft. I know you. I know all your quirks and what you like and how you've always hated lilies because they stained your jumper when you were six. I know all those things about you. This is just another thing I know about you.” Greg looked around the street and then let go of Mycroft’s hands, dropping to one knee. “I still want you. All of you. If you want, I will marry you right this minute. Just say yes and let's go, and we will go. Say yes and I will turn around, and buy you a ring if you want. Whatever you want,” Greg said softly, grabbing Mycroft’s hand. “Hell, if you want, I will take you into the house and make love till you until you can't breathe if it'll prove that I still want you. I don't care, My. As long as I'm with you, I don't care what happens to us. Do you understand?”

__“Gregory,” Mycroft pulled him up and into his arms, choking back a sob. If there had ever been any doubts they were obliterated. He still had to face Sherlock. But he wasn't alone. And that was everything._ _

__“I just need you,” Greg murmured, pressing his face to Mycroft’s neck. “Only you. As you are.”_ _

__“Let's go inside,” murmured Mycroft._ _

__“All right.” Greg stroked his back slowly. “C’mon we'll get some tea or something. Calm down a little.” He turned, leading Mycroft in, only to pause at the identical looks of shock from Sherlock and William as they met them in the hall._ _

__“Mum?” William asked, eyes widening. “What's wrong? Are you okay?”_ _

__“No, he isn't,” Sherlock said, voice icy. “Mycroft. What did you do?”_ _

__Mycroft was not prepared for this and knew he looked a mess. “Gregory and I went to see if we’d be able to have more children.”_ _

__Sherlock narrowed his eyes. “Brother…”_ _

__William frowned. “What did they say, Mum? You...were you crying?”_ _

__Mycroft took a breath and crouched to eye level. “Looks like I can't give you a brother or sister.”_ _

__“Oh.” William set his hands on Mycroft's shoulders. “That's okay, Mum. Unless you really wanted another kid. Then you can be sad. But don't be sad for me, all right?” He leaned in and hugged Mycroft, tucking his nose in to scent him._ _

__Mycroft folded him in his arms. “I love you too. Very much. I need to speak to Sherlock a moment. Okay?”_ _

__“Yeah. Have you seen my beetle book?” William asked. “I can't find it.”_ _

__“It might have fallen behind the bed,” Greg said. “Here I'll take you up and help you shift it to see.”_ _

__He glanced at Mycroft and squeezed his shoulder. “We’ll stay up there for a bit yeah? And then go grab takeaway for lunch I think.”_ _

__“Okay.” Mycroft waited until they were gone and faced Sherlock. “I told him the truth.”_ _

__Sherlock paled. “How much?”_ _

__“All of it,” he said tiredly. “He's my mate. Or close enough to it.”_ _

__“How could you?” Sherlock hissed. “You promised, Mycroft! What if he tells William? Or John!”_ _

__“He's not going to. And one day William will figure it out.”_ _

__“No, he won't. He will never know,” Sherlock snapped. “Never. You cannot tell him!”_ _

__“What do I say the day he realizes he smells like you? And looks like you? The day he realizes the reason why your scent comforts him in a way mine _never ___can?” Mycroft was unaware his hands were fisting and his voice was raised._ _

___“You say nothing and let him assume whatever he wants!” Sherlock replied. “He cannot know, Mycroft! It will ruin everything! He’ll ask questions I can't answer, won't answer. How am I supposed to answer if he asks me why? Or who his father is?”_ _ _

___“You be an adult about it and tell him that you had problems and you were young and tell him that while of course you love him very much, you were in no position to raise him. You can be honest and tell him you don’t know who his father is. Or tell him it doesn’t matter because Gregory wants to be his father and that’s what’s important. For God’s sake, Sherlock, you were only six years older than he is now when you got pregnant.”_ _ _

___“I cannot be a mother! What if that's what he wants? How am I supposed to tell him that I was high, out of my mind, when he was conceived? That I hated him for the first nine months because all I could think was that if he wasn't here I could be off getting high? Making everything slow down? I am not his mother! I'm nothing more than a vessel! A body! I'm nothing, Mycroft! I'm a brain to be used. And the fact that he thinks I'm worthy of his time, worthy of his attention makes my skin crawl because I want it so badly. I want him to know me, but only because he won't know the truth! I am an addict,” Sherlock bellowed. “I will always be an addict! I can't be saved, Mycroft! He can't know because he will lose faith in me! And I can't, I can't have him see me like that! I can take it from you, from Lestrade, from John and Mummy and Father but not William! He is the only good thing I have from that time! The rest is just foggy memories of being high and being used! I don't even know how many times it happened. When he was born, I left because I couldn't stand the feel of my own skin! Every time I used, I wouldn't let myself hold him until I was clean again. I don't deserve to be his mother! I don't deserve to have this wonderful child call me up when he had nightmares, or ask to see my experiments! I don't deserve him! I am nothing!” Sherlock shouted, clawing at his inner arm._ _ _

___Mycroft pulled his hand away. “You are everything Sherlock,” he said, going quiet in the face of his wrath. “I'm happy to raise him, happy he calls me mum, but we both know the truth. I've always seen him as ours. I've always had a feeling like he was only going to be mine for a little while. And you're good with him. I'll never be able to carry a child, Sherlock.”_ _ _

___“I'm not his mother,” Sherlock said, voice shaky. “Please, My. Please don't tell him. I can't. Please.”_ _ _

___Mycroft stepped forward and pulled Sherlock into his arms. “I won't. But I can't lie to him either.”_ _ _

___“Don't tell him,” Sherlock said, trembling. “Don't. He can't know. He'll hate me then. He can't. He’ll hate me.” Sherlock pulled away. “I'm not-I can't,” he said, almost frantic, panting. He turned and ran, slamming the door open._ _ _

___“Mum?” William said quietly from the other end of the hall. “Mum...what...what did Aunt Sherlock mean?”_ _ _

___Mycroft took a deep breath. “He loves you very much.”_ _ _

___“But why did he run away?” William asked, Greg appearing behind him looking apologetic. “Where is he going? Is he leaving us? What's happening?” he asked, panicky. “What did I do wrong?”_ _ _

___“Nothing. William. You've done nothing wrong at all. I promise.”_ _ _

___“You're lying! You were shouting about me,” William said, starting to tear up. “Why is Sherlock mad at me? What aren't you supposed to tell me?”_ _ _

___Mycroft took a breath. He took William’s hand and led him to the sofa, sitting and pulling him into his lap. “Aunt Sherlock is afraid that if you know some things you won't love him.”_ _ _

___“Like what?” William asked, wiping his eyes on his sleeve. “He hasn't done anything bad, has he? He didn't hurt anyone.”_ _ _

___Mycroft looked to Greg for support, holding William a little tighter. “Something very bad happened years ago. But I want you to know that he loves you. He’s had problems, but he has always, always, wanted to be sure you were taken care of.”_ _ _

___“Is that what you aren't supposed to tell me?” William asked, sniffing._ _ _

___Greg stepped forward and sat down beside them. “William, sometimes there are things that are very hard to say, all right? And it hurts to say them.”_ _ _

___Mycroft nodded and took another breath. “I didn't give birth to you. Sherlock did. But he couldn't take care of you so he trusted me to raise you as my own. That's why you like his scent so much.”_ _ _

___“But...you're my mother,” William said, voice wavering. “Are…are you trying to get rid of me?”_ _ _

___“God no, never.” Mycroft hugged him. “But he doesn't want you to hate him for not being able to raise you him himself.”_ _ _

___Greg nodded and rubbed William’s back. “We would never get rid of you, love. You're Mycroft’s son. Mine too. We love you. So does Sherlock.”_ _ _

___William’s breath hitched. “Why does he think I'd hate him? I love him.”_ _ _

___Mycroft ached. “Because he was on drugs for a long time. He doesn't know who your father is.”_ _ _

___William frowned. “Wait….” He bit his lip. “Did...did people hurt him? Is that…how he got me?”_ _ _

___Mycroft nodded. “Yes.”_ _ _

___More tears welled up in William’s eyes. “Does...does he hate me?”_ _ _

___Mycroft hugged him tighter. “Not all. He loves you so much, that's why he's afraid of losing you.”_ _ _

___“But I was a bad thing.”_ _ _

___“You were never a bad thing,” Greg said softly._ _ _

___“Exactly. In fact, you've been a very good thing for all of us.” Mycroft kissed the top of his head._ _ _

___“Can...can we go get him?” William asked. “I want to talk to him.”_ _ _

___“Yes. I'll see where he's at. I..I've only ever wanted to take care of you both.”_ _ _


	9. Chapter 9

Sherlock reached out for his phone with shaking hands. “John,” he said when the alpha picked up. “John, can you come get me?”

“Of course. Where are you?” Sherlock sounded scared and John was already reaching to bring along his gun. 

Sherlock took a breath and gave him the address. “Please hurry,” he whispered, letting the phone slip from his hand. 

**

John told the cab to wait as they pulled up to the building, one hand on the gun in his trousers. “Sherlock?” he called, walking into the crumbling building, trying to scent out the omega.

“John….” Sherlock called, voice barely audible even to his own ears as he scented the alpha. “John…” He was trembling, arms wrapped around himself.

John raced to his side. “Are you hurt?”

Sherlock shook his head. “Take me home,” he mumbled. “Take me home.”

John put an arm around him. “Okay.” He growled at an alpha that stepped out in front of them. 

“John. Home. Please, I can't be here anymore.” 

“He's got to pay for what he got,” said the alpha. 

“It’s there,” Sherlock said, pointing. “I didn't use any.” He rummaged through his pockets, pulling out a few notes, shoving them toward the alpha. “I didn't use any,” he repeated. 

The alpha opened his mouth, but John pushed past him, guiding Sherlock out and into the cab. 

Sherlock tucked his face into John’s neck as soon as the door shut behind them, breathing in shallow, quick breaths, clutching tight. 

“I'm here. Not going anywhere.” John rubbed his back. “Want to tell me what happened?”

“Not here,” Sherlock mumbled. He suddenly fumbled with his sleeves, pulling them up. “I'm clean.”

“I see that. It’s fine Sherlock, it’s fine.” John’s mobile rang and he picked it up. “Mycroft wants to meet us at Baker Street.”

“No. No. Not now,” Sherlock said, hiding his face again. “I can't tell him. He’ll make me.”

“Make you what?” 

Sherlock took a slow breath. “You'll be upset,” he said. 

“Just tell me, please.”

After a few long moments, Sherlock sat up straight, staring out the window, unable to look at John.“William is mine,” he said softly. “I gave birth to him. I don't know who his father is. I don't even know when he was conceived except for a rough estimate. I cannot tell you how many times I have had intercourse, only that I haven't for ten years and never have while sober. Mycroft is infertile. He and I argued today over telling William the truth,” he said, swallowing hard, voice wavering. “And I ran. To drugs. But I couldn't. Not..not with you at home. Not with William wondering where I'd gone.” 

John stared at him a moment, then pulled him into his arms. “Sherlock. It’s okay. Well. It’s not, but I’m not angry.”

Sherlock’s breath hitched. “I'm not…” 

“What?”

Sherlock visibly struggled for a moment and then flinched back as they pulled onto Baker Street, seeing the three waiting. “Worthy?” he said. “I don't deserve him.” 

“You’re brave, Sherlock. And you didn’t take the drugs. Look, I think he wants to talk to you.” He nodded at where the boy was shuffling from foot to foot.

“What if he hates me?” Sherlock said. 

“He won’t hate you. Look at him, Sherlock.”

Sherlock looked out the window. “He's beautiful,” Sherlock said. “He deserves better than me.” He looked at John and then squeezed his hand. “Will you come in with me?” 

“Of course.” John got out, holding his hand and giving him an encouraging smile.

Sherlock walked hesitantly up to them, and tilted his forearm to show Mycroft.

“Other one too,” Greg said quietly. “C’mon, lad.” 

Sherlock swallowed hard, but showed it, then looked to William. “Are you angry with me?” he asked. “I know your...mother told you,” he said.

William shook his head. “Do...do you hate me?” he asked quietly, voice shaking.

“Hate you?” Sherlock asked, frowning. “Why would I hate you?”

“Because you were hurt to have me,” William said, slowly meeting his eyes. 

Sherlock shook his head, going to his knees and pulling William into his arms. “No, William. I could never hate you. You were the only thing that made me able to breathe again. You made me better. And I may have...given birth to you, but Mycroft is your mum. I will always be your Aunt Sherlock. I will be here for you. I won't go away again,” he murmured. “I won't lose myself again.” 

William sniffled. Mycroft mouthed a ‘thank you’ to John, who simply nodded. Mycroft knew that John coming into Sherlock’s life had made as much difference as anything else. He was good for his brother and Mycroft was grateful.

“We should get some supper,” Greg said after a bit. “And the cabbie needs paid. C’mon, we’ll invite Mrs. Hudson up too, I'll cook.”

“No!” Sherlock, John and William said in sync, glancing at each other. 

“She...probably shouldn't come up until we finish cleaning,” William said, looking guilty. “We should probably go out to eat.” 

Mycroft shook his head. “I’ll pay, you invite Mrs. Hudson.”

“Okay.” William nodded. “Come with me,” he said, tugging on Sherlock’s hand. 

**

John and Sherlock stepped into Baker Street later that night, finding it miraculously clean and aired. “Mycroft,” Sherlock muttered, hanging up his coat and scarf, toeing off his shoes to go curl up on the couch. “John?” 

“Yes?” John came to his side and pulled him into his arms.

“Can we try again?” Sherlock asked in a small voice. 

“Is that what you want?”

“Yes.” Sherlock kissed the underside of his jaw. “I want you to spend my heat with me. And I want this before that.” He sat up and looked at John carefully. “I want...you. I want to know what it feels like. I want to remember for once.” 

“I’d like that very much,” breathed John. “I want to make you feel good.”

Sherlock nodded. “Touch me,” he murmured. 

“Let’s go back to your room.” John offered his hand.

Sherlock took it and gave a small smile.

John smiled back and took him into the bedroom, laying him down gently. “Remember, you’re in control.”

Sherlock nodded, taking John’s hands and pulling them to his chest. “I want you to see me.” 

John leaned in and kissed him deeply, trying to show him his depth of care.

Sherlock let out a quiet moan. 

“I’m going to get undressed, okay Sherlock?”

“Me first,” Sherlock murmured. 

“Okay.” John knelt back.

Sherlock sat up, and looked at John. “Do you want to?” 

“Undress you? Yes.” He reached for Sherlock’s buttons.

Sherlock blew out a quiet breath, watching John’s hands as they moved down his shirt, baring his chest. 

Leaning down, John kissed his pale skin as he exposed it.

“John,” Sherlock murmured, brushing his fingers through his hair. 

“Feel good?”

Sherlock nodded. “Trousers now?” he asked. 

“All right.” John watched his face as he opened them.

Sherlock let go of a nervous breath as he lifted his hips, letting John pull them down. “John? Can we have a word that doesn't mean stop? Only slow down?”

“Yes. What word would you like? Or we could just go with Yellow.”

“Yellow will do. Yellow to slow, Microscope to stop.” 

“Okay.” John leaned down and kissed his small cock.

Sherlock shifted his hips with a small moan. “You now,” he said, cock twitching. 

“Do you want to undress me?”

Sherlock smiled. “I want to watch you.” 

John smiled and pulled his jumper over his head. He hesitated as he put his hands on his trousers, knowing he was large, even for an alpha.

Sherlock frowned. “Are you changing your mind?” he asked hesitantly. 

“No. I just want to be sure about you wanting this.” John watched Sherlock as he freed his cock, sliding off his trousers and pants.

“Oh…” Sherlock wet his lips. 

“Is it okay?”

“You're larger than average. I'm not nervous.” 

“Good.” John leaned down and kissed Sherlock’s thigh, wanting to taste him.

“Yellow,” Sherlock said quietly. 

“Okay.” John very slowly rubbed along his thighs, aiming towards his target, but waiting until he felt Sherlock relax, bit by bit, before laying down another kiss.

Sherlock closed his eyes, sighing quietly. “Go ahead,” he murmured. 

John very carefully parted Sherlock’s legs, ducking his head to lick across his entrance.

Sherlock bit his lip, holding back his gasp of pleasure.

John continued to go slow, knowing how to pleasure an omega and wanting to make sure Sherlock was dripping by the time he actually took him.

Sherlock threaded a hand through John’s hair, tugging gently. “Kiss me,” he muttered, breath coming in small, surprised pants. 

John raised his head and did so, letting his fingers pick up where his mouth had been.

Sherlock gasped against his lips, moaning, tasting himself. 

“Good omega,” murmured John.

Sherlock flushed. “Say it again,” he said, squeezing around John’s fingers experimentally. 

John groaned softly. “Omega. My good omega.”

Sherlock kissed his neck, lapping over his scent gland. “Your smell calms me down,” he murmured. 

“Good. I..I want you to feel safe with me.”

“I do. Anything I react to, it isn't you. It's a remembered pain, and the corresponding reaction. I trust you,” Sherlock said, “You won't hurt me.” 

John kissed him again. “Do you mind if I run to my room? I’ve got lubricant, and since you’re not in heat it’ll ease the way.”

Sherlock nodded. “I'll wait,” he said with a smile. 

John kissed him again and hurried up to his room. It took a minute to find as he hadn’t been on any dates in a while, but at last he had it in hand as he went back to his omega. He stopped in the doorway, frozen at the sight of Sherlock with three fingers inside of him, rocking and moaning on the bed.

Sherlock turned his head, letting it drop to the bed with a low moan. “John….alpha,” he said, eyes fluttering shut as he curved his finger. “I...touched myself to the thought of you. All through my last heat,” he whispered on a harsh breath. “You were gone. So I took one of your shirts. I rutted against it until my climax.” 

“Christ, Sherlock.” John hurried to the bed. “May I, Sherlock? I want you so badly.”

Sherlock nodded and rolled onto his stomach, presenting for his alpha. 

John groaned and squeezed his own cock. He coated his fingers and pressed them inside. “Do you want it this way? Or facing me?”

Sherlock hesitated, clenching around John’s fingers. “I...don't know. I just thought, you'd want this way.” 

“Here, roll over, love.”

Sherlock rolled over, looking up at John with wide eyes. 

John leaned in and kissed him, slicking himself and lining up. “Tell me if it’s too much,” he said, keeping his gaze.

Sherlock slid his hands over John's back, settling them at his hips. “Yes John.” 

John watched his face as he pushed in, adjusting Sherlock’s legs to ease the way for both of them.

“Yellow. Don't stop,” Sherlock gasped. “So wide, big.” 

John pushed in slowly, kissing Sherlock and groaning his pleasure.

Sherlock whimpered, hands tight on John’s hips, heart pounding hard.

John kept going until he was fully seated. “Breathe.”

Sherlock nodded, trying and failing to catch a breath. He reached up, wrapping his arms around John’s neck, pulling him down, taking a breath as soon as he was able to bury his face in John’s throat, the scent of him filling the air as he trembled.

John started to move, murmuring comfort. “You feel so good.”

“Tell me how it feels for you?” Sherlock muttered, nipping John’s neck lightly, fear dissipating as his pleasure began to spark instead.

“Hot. Tight. I love the way you feel around me.”

“What do I smell of?” 

John buried his nose against Sherlock’s scent gland. “Wool and comfort. You smell strong. Me?”

“You smell like mine,” Sherlock said in a low voice. “But heat and smoke and sand and Baker Street. You smell like home.”

“You’re home to me, too.” John shifted his hips, seeking the spot that would make Sherlock cry out with pleasure.

Sherlock lifted his legs, wrapping them around John’s waist. “Up and to the right, three degrees,” he said, burying his face in John's neck again. 

John kissed his cheek and followed his directions, holding his omega tight.

Sherlock cried out as John succeeded, grip tightening on John as he rocked up, trying and failing to get friction on his cock.

Growling, John worked a hand between them, sensing his need. He started moving harder, faster, pushing Sherlock into his fist.

Breath catching at the growl, Sherlock dragged his nails over John’s back, warning caught up in a wordless, surprised, cry as he came.

“Good, omega,” said John, kissing him hard as he chased his own orgasm.

Sherlock's eyes were squeezed shut, helpless moans falling from his mouth as John used him, though he didn't feel used, or forced or anything but worshiped and wanted. 

“Beautiful. Amazing. Brilliant. Omega.”

“Come, John,” Sherlock breathed. “Come.”

Groaning, John filled him, thrusting through his orgasm, trembling with desire for this omega beneath him.

Sherlock opened his eyes as John filled him, staring in wonder at the alpha’s face, hands shaking as he moved them over John’s body, smoothing and soothing. “So hot, full,” he muttered. “I should sample it next time. See why-” He was cut off by a deep, claiming kiss as John turned his head. “Oh...” Sherlock said, sudden illumination in his eyes. “You love me.” 

John blinked and smiled. “Yes,” he said simply.

“I...think I love you as well,” Sherlock said, searching his face. “Is that all right?” 

‘I think so. You?” John stroked his face.

Sherlock turned into the caress, hiding a smile. “More than,” he said, pressing a kiss to John’s palm. “You'll stay in here tonight.” 

“I will.” John gathered Sherlock in his arms. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Sherlock huffed a breath against John’s chest. “Of course you aren't, don't be stupid.”

**

Greg stepped into the bathroom, shedding his clothes as he looked at Mycroft, reclining in the bath. “Hi love,” he murmured, sitting down on the edge. “William’s asleep, the house is locked up, and our bed is ready whenever you are.” He smiled and leaned over Mycroft, pressing a kiss to his wet forehead. 

Mycroft reached out for his hand and tugged him closer. “Come join me. This has been an exhausting day.”

Greg smiled. “Sit up then,” he said and stepped into the tub, slipping in behind Mycroft and settling them back so they were comfortable. “Better?” he asked quietly. 

“It’s always better when I’m surrounded by you.”

“Romantic sod.” Greg chuckled and ran his hand over Mycroft’s side, then wrapped his arms around him, setting his chin on his shoulder. “So. How are you feeling, love?” 

“Better. I’m glad you know. I’m glad William knows.”

“That's good,” Greg said. “But can we just…” He sighed. “I need to know you're really all right. Not just glad,” he murmured. “You have to be okay with everything else that went on today.” 

“It still hurts to know that I can’t have my own.” Mycroft turned and tucked himself against Greg’s chest.

Greg held him tight. “I know it does,” he murmured. “If you want to try fertility treatments, we can. It's worth trying.” 

“But she said I can’t carry.”

“She said that the chances were slim to none.” Greg sighed, pressing his lips to Mycroft’s forehead. “But that still something. If you wanted. Whatever you want, we’ll do.” 

“I don’t know yet. I need time to think about it.”

“No rush,” Greg said. “I'm not going anywhere.” He sank lower in the bath, simply holding Mycroft, scratching his back soothingly.


	10. Cover Art And Announcement

If you liked this, please feel to check out [The Secret Half](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6173428/chapters/14144968), the follow-up piece to this. It is part of or newly formed [Family Secrets Series](http://archiveofourown.org/series/418363). And please enjoy the cover art below, created by HumsHappily, found at this[ link](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6173917). 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! You can find us on AO3 at [Janto321 ](http://archiveofourown.org/users/FaceofMer/)and [HumsHappily](http://archiveofourown.org/users/humshappily) or on tumblr at [merindab ](http://merindab.tumblr.com)(janto321) and [HumsHappily](http://hums-happily.tumblr.com)!
> 
> Thanks to  Beltainefaerie for the beta.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Cover Art for The Secret Child](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6173917) by [HumsHappily](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HumsHappily/pseuds/HumsHappily)




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